The Dove of Death (7 page)

‘Returning home is our main aim. Don’t forget that we are destitute,’ Eadulf reminded her.

‘We will hope that the charity of these brethren will help us. Also, I still have one emerald ear-clip left. Perhaps we can barter the stone for food or other things.’

Eadulf was sceptical. ‘I doubt that will take us far,’ he said. ‘I think it would be better to seek out this Lord Canao. He might be able to guide us to King Alain, who would surely help us as Bressal negotiated the treaty with him?’

‘Perhaps,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘But it is a long way back to Naoned, and that is where Bressal said he had last seen the King. Even so, I want to find out more about these pirates before we set out for Naoned again.’

Eadulf saw the set of Fidelma’s jaw and realised it was not worth arguing. Once she had made up her mind, the only way to change it was persuasion by example.

‘So far as I can see, we will have to go where the tide takes us at the moment until we can find a benefactor,’ he said dourly.

Fidelma glanced towards the building into which Brother Metellus had disappeared. Her impatience was obvious to Eadulf and he was about to urge calm when a ‘miaow’ at his feet caused him to look down. A large black cat had appeared, its nose in the air sniffing gently. It moved immediately towards Fidelma and rubbed itself against her legs. She stared down at it and then a frown formed on her features. She bent down and ran a hand across the sleek black fur at the back of its neck. The animal gave another ‘miaow’, then turned and stalked off without haste among the bushes of the herb garden.

Fidelma turned to Eadulf with a curious expression. ‘Did you see that?’

‘The abbey seems to have a pet,’ he replied with a smile.

‘You didn’t recognise it?’ she pressed.

‘Why should I?’ Eadulf did not understand.

Fidelma ran a tongue nervously over her lips and glanced
quickly round, lowering her voice in an almost conspiratorial whisper.

‘Because that animal was Luchtigern. That was the ship’s cat, the cat from the
Barnacle Goose
.’

Eadulf regarded her in astonishment for a moment, not sure whether she was joking or not.

‘You must be wrong,’ he said eventually. ‘One black cat looks exactly like another.’

Fidelma shook her head determinedly. ‘That is not so. Cats have individual looks and personalities just as we have. That was Luchtigern – I know it. But how came the cat here?’

‘Are you saying that the cat escaped overboard and swam here?’ Eadulf tried to joke.

‘I am not stupid, Eadulf,’ Fidelma said irritably. ‘I tell you that it was Luchtigern. On the back of his head is a lump of pitch that is entangled with his hair. I felt it just now. I saw it on the ship and Wenbrit told me just before we were attacked that he was going to cut it off.’

Eadulf was silent for a moment. He knew that Fidelma would not be so intense if she was anything but sure and the evidence of the pitch was damning.

‘But how…?’ he began.

‘Don’t ask me how it came here!’ she snapped. ‘Maybe the
Barnacle Goose
had to put into harbour here and the cat escaped.’

‘There is no harbour near here,’ protested Eadulf. ‘You saw
that the beaches are long and sloping. A ship would have to stand off some way out to sea, and no cat could swim that distance to shore.’

‘Then we must examine the coast round here. If Luchtigern is here then so are those who have survived the attack on the
Barnacle Goose
. The animal could not have travelled far on its own.’

‘Don’t male cats wander?’ hazarded Eadulf. ‘The ship could be miles away.’

Fidelma’s expression indicated what she thought of his comment. She glanced around with a frown.

‘We’ll have to be careful about what we say until we know who we can trust.’

‘Surely we can trust Brother Metellus? After all, he saved us.’

‘It’s true that he saved us,’ she agreed. ‘But I am sure the dove emblem meant something to him when you mentioned it. Also, he did not seem keen about us going to see this local lord.’

There was no time to say any more because Brother Metellus had reappeared, in the company of an elderly man. The latter was stocky in appearance, with a fleshy moon face and red cheeks. His hair, while bearing the tonsure of Peter, was a silver-grey and with thick curls at its ends. The eyes were dark, and there was some unfathomable quality to them as if they were a mask rather than expressive of the personality of the man. He wore black robes and around his neck was a golden chain with a crucifix denoting that he held the rank of Abbot.

His lips parted in what was meant as a smile of welcome but his features held no warmth behind the greeting.

‘
Pax vobiscum
. Greetings, my children. You are welcome to our little community.’ He spoke in Latin.

‘
Pax tecum
,’ they replied almost in unison.

‘Brother Metellus has told me of your adventure but,
Deo iuvante
, you have survived.’

‘Indeed, with God’s help,’ muttered Eadulf.

‘Brother Metellus also tells me that you have been rendered without means of support. You may be in luck – we are expecting a merchant, called Biscam, to arrive here shortly. Biscam comes regularly to our community and he will be returning to Naoned within a few days. I am sure that he would offer you his protection and a place among his wagons as far as the port. Brother Metellus tells me that ships from many quarters of the world use the port, including those from your own land. I am sure you will be able to find a safe passage back.’

The man spoke firmly as if there would be no questioning of what he had decided.

‘You are most kind…’ began Fidelma.

The Abbot barely heard her before cutting in: ‘But until the merchant arrives…well, we must secure you some shelter. Beyond the abbey is a little village of fisherfolk.’ He paused and made a curious gesture with a motion of his hand. ‘You see, we are a community of monks, those who have taken vows of chastity in accordance with what we believe is the true path to God. There is no place, no facilities, for a woman here.’

‘I was told that a local chieftain has his fortress nearby and perhaps, out of respect for my brother, the King of Muman, he might give us hospitality and ensure our safe passage home,’ interposed Fidelma.

A frown of annoyance crossed Abbot Maelcar’s features. He clearly did not like to have his own plans questioned.

‘The Lord of Brilhag is not resident in his fortress. In fact, I believe he is presently in Naoned with the King. Best that you travel there as soon as Biscam, the merchant, departs.’

‘I have no wish to impose on your community,’ Fidelma said coldly.

‘Neither shall you,’ replied the Abbot with equanimity. ‘Brother Metellus will take you to the village and arrange your beds and also meals. You have the freedom of all places except the abbey buildings themselves.’ He paused and shrugged. ‘The reasons for that are obvious. The harmony and peace of our community cannot be disturbed. While Brother…er, Eadulf,’ he struggled with the unfamiliar name, ‘can join us if he wishes, either at meals or services, we cannot extend such hospitality to you, Sister. Our rules are strict.’

‘I will not bother you, Abbot,’ Eadulf intervened quickly, before Fidelma had a chance to respond. There was irritation on her face and he knew her response would be critical. ‘We will be content with whatever arrangements you suggest, and thank you for your generosity. Are we not like that traveller from Jerusalem to Jericho who was set upon by robbers and left destitute and for dead? And have you not come as the Samaritan did to take pity on us? For this much we applaud your beneficence, Father Abbot.’

Fidelma was puzzled for a moment because the speech was so unlike Eadulf. Then she realised that he was using gentle irony to deflect the Abbot’s thoughts. Abbot Maelcar apparently did not hear any mockery in what was said but merely nodded seriously.

‘Although I do not approve of the path you have taken, Brother Eadulf,’ he glanced from Eadulf to Fidelma, ‘we are Christians together and must fulfil the tenets of our Faith that are compassion and charity. It is God’s will that soon all the churches of these western lands will come into accord with Rome and every abbey and monastery will adopt the Rule of the Blessed Benedict. Only a few days ago, I received news of the ordinances of the Council at Autun, which has ordained that this Rule of Benedict be adopted by every religious community. Any other course leads to profligacy and depravity. Unless
our churches here abandon those ways, there is no reward in heaven.’

Fidelma swallowed hard but Eadulf nodded quickly.

‘Each sheep comes to the shepherd in his own way,’ he smiled easily. ‘It may interest you to know that we were among the delegates to the Council of Autun.’ He ignored Fidelma’s frown of warning.

‘Delegates?’ The Abbot’s eyes shot up on his forehead in surprise. ‘It was a Council of bishops and abbots. Why would you be among the delegates?’

‘Sister Fidelma was asked to act as legal adviser to the Abbot of Imleach, the premier bishop of her brother’s kingdom,’ Eadulf said.

For the first time during this conversation, Brother Metellus cleared his throat and bent in deferential manner towards the Abbot.

‘Sister Fidelma is a legal advocate in her own land,’ he began to explain.

‘When is this merchant, Biscam, due to arrive here?’ asked Fidelma, cutting in sharply, and determined to draw the conversation back to the immediate problem.

‘Biscam? He should be here within the next day or two. He and his brothers have been trading with us for many years.’

‘Then we shall trouble you no further, Abbot Maelcar.’ Fidelma glanced about the abbey grounds as if noticing them for the first time and commented: ‘You have a beautiful place here.’

The Abbot’s eyes widened at the change of subject. ‘It was a spot chosen by the Blessed Gildas,’ he replied.

‘Your herb garden is especially fragrant and well kept.’

‘God blesses the hands of our brethren in their tending of the plants.’

‘I saw that the abbey has a cat and I presume that you keep it to fend off the pests that sometimes dominate in a garden.’

This time Abbot Maelcar looked puzzled. ‘The abbey does not have a cat,’ he replied.

‘No?’ Fidelma feigned surprise. ‘The abbey does not have a large black cat?’

‘We have no cat at all.’

‘But I saw it wandering through the gardens.’

‘Then it must be one from the village. And now…’ The Abbot left the sentence unfinished as a token of dismissal.

‘Of course. Forgive me. We have kept you for too long from your duties.’

‘We will doubtless meet again before you leave our community,’ the Abbot said, before turning and walking back towards the single-storey building.

Brother Metellus had been standing in silence, his head bowed and his hands folded in front of him. He sighed and stirred as the Abbot left them.

‘He has told me to look after you until the arrival of Biscam,’ he explained in a resigned voice. ‘I had been hoping to use this fair weather to get back to the island.’

Fidelma could not resist a quick smile at his grumbling.

‘It seems that Abbot Maelcar is not the friendliest of people. There is something about his manner…’ She ended with a shrug.

‘He is convinced that the correct path to a communication with God is through vows of celibacy and in following the order of the Blessed Benedict. The rites and rituals of the churches of the Britons, and those in your own land, are anathema to him. You must make allowances.’

‘We are indebted to him, and to you, for all you have done for us, Brother Metellus,’ Eadulf said hurriedly, lest the man think they were ungrateful.

Brother Metellus did not reply except to indicate, with a movement of his head, the north of the quadrangle. ‘The village lies beyond these woodlands.’

There was a small area of woodland between the abbey buildings and the small hamlet beyond. They stood overlooking the same sandy bay in which they had landed. It was a practical village and not a picturesque one. The squat buildings were ugly, functional and no more.

‘Where are you taking us?’ asked Fidelma, curiously.

‘To the Widow Aourken,’ he replied.

‘And she is…?’ prompted Fidelma.

‘An elderly widow woman. Her husband, I am told, was a fisherman. Now she lives alone and so has room in her house.’

‘We would not like to give her trouble.’

‘You will not. She often offers the hospitality of her home to wayfarers. I think you will like her for she is also a woman of strong opinions.’

If it were merely physical strength that he was referring to, then Brother Metellus’ description seemed an accurate one. Aourken was almost as wide as she was tall. The broad arms were muscular and her shoulders could, in Eadulf’s imagination, take a heavy sack on them without effort. Her hands were twice as big as his own and he felt that one of them could squeeze an apple into a pulp. Yet her face was kindly, the eyes slightly melancholy and of an indiscernible colour. The hair, which reached beyond her shoulders in ragged tails, was white, streaked here and there with dark grey. Her teeth were bad but she maintained a twisted smile that seemed to disguise them. She stood at the door of one of the single-storey stone buildings, hands on hips, watching their approach.

‘Greetings, Brother Metellus.’

These were the only words that Fidelma understood as the woman spoke rapidly in her own language. The words were so accented that she lost track.

There was a quick exchange and then, to Fidelma’s surprise,
the woman turned to her and began to speak in Latin – hesitantly, it was true, but in a form that was quite literate.

‘You are welcome here. You are both welcome here.’

‘Thank you,’ returned Fidelma at once. ‘We do not wish to cause you any problems.’

‘Brother Metellus has informed me of your situation. God be praised, that you have survived the ravages of those pirates.’

Fidelma looked interested. ‘You have heard of them?’

The woman spread her large hands. ‘On this coast, there are always tales of sea-raiders. But in recent times, some of the farms on this coast have been attacked by brigands landing from the sea.’

‘You speak good Latin,’ interposed Eadulf.

Aourken smiled her crooked smile. ‘I served the Faith for many years. Then I met my late husband and he convinced me a better life was serving him. Well, we had a good time while it lasted. God’s blessing was on us. Brother Metellus has told me your story and I will do my best to make you comfortable until Biscam, the merchant, arrives. My house is your house.’

‘We are very grateful for your hospitality,’ Fidelma said again.

‘It is nothing. Come inside and I will show you where you will sleep, and perhaps you would care for something to eat and cider to drink? I am sure that Abbot Maelcar would not have offered you anything.’

‘You seem to know the Abbot well?’ Fidelma smiled.

‘In our youth, we studied together. We had decided to join the community of Gildas together. It was then, as other religious houses still are, a community of men and women serving the Faith and raising their children to do so. I knew Maelcar when he first arrived here from Brekilien, before he started to read the works about Martin of Tours and hear the stories of the dedication of those religious out in the eastern deserts and
other inaccessible places who became hermits and vowed celibacy. That was when he decided to follow their example.’

‘The abbey is not exactly in an eastern desert,’ pointed out Fidelma dryly. ‘But I have heard of this place Brekilian. Where is it?’

‘It is north of here and still within the kingdom. Brekilian is a great expanse of forest where Maelcar was raised and which he oft-times returns to. In fact, he is not long returned from some such a visit. Not that visits to his home do anything to sweeten his temper, but rather make his disposition worse. I understand he returned muttering about the loose morality of King Alain’s court where a provincial servant could fornicate with the King’s offspring.’

‘So Abbot Maelcar likes the secluded religious life?’

Aourken gave her a knowing smile and shook her head.