Peter Tremayne - Behold a Pale Horse

‘I bow to your knowledge, Magister Ado,’ she replied. ‘But there is a good saying, however: semper paratus .’

Magister Ado was amused. ‘Always prepared? It seems a good maxim, lady. But by midday, or soon after, you will see the great walls of the Abbey of Bobium and your fears will then be proved unfounded.’

Fidelma inclined her head as though in acquiescence. ‘It is hard to accept that there are those prepared to maim or kill because they disagree with the form of Christian creed another has.’

Fidelma had not meant it to sound so belligerent but Magister Ado only chuckled in good humour.

‘You believe that there is something more to it? Some dark secret that I am not telling you? Wait until you have spoken with Brother Ruadán, and you will see that the disagreement runs deep among our people here. Much blood has been scattered in this argument. From what our young friends tell me,’ he glanced briefly behind to where Sister Gisa and Brother Faro were following, ‘Brother Ruadán has suffered more than I have — suffered for his adherence to the Nicene Creed.’

She did not press the elderly religieux further but rode on in silence. Her anxious eyes wandered constantly over the thickly growing trees that rose up into the mountains on their right. To their left, the turbulent waters of the Trebbia provided a barrier which would have made attack from that quarter difficult. Now and then she glanced back to the plodding farmers behind them.

Then she saw a movement on the hill to their right. It was a man standing on a jutting rock but almost shrouded by the surrounding trees.

‘A man is watching us,’ she whispered urgently, trying not to show she had noticed. ‘To my right by those tall trees on the rock. I can’t see a weapon though.’

Magister Ado looked up quickly, suddenly tense. Then he immediately relaxed — and raised his hand as if to wave it in greeting to the figure high above them.

‘It’s old Aistulf,’ he said to her. ‘Aistulf the Hermit.’

The figure above them had turned abruptly and went scurrying off among the trees. She caught sight of a bent back and white, long hair.

‘He’s not a friendly soul,’ she commented dryly.

Magister Ado chuckled. ‘That is the nature of a hermit.Old Aistulf lives alone in a cave somewhere up in those hills. He came to our valley only a few years ago, at the end of the wars which brought Grimoald to power. He is a friend of our abbot, Abbot Servillius. I have never seen him up close. No one has, except Abbot Servillius and, I think, Sister Gisa. They sometimes go up into the hills and see him. Aistulf wanders these mountains. I know nothing more about him except that he means no harm.’

‘He is elderly,’ Fidelma observed. ‘He needs more than someone keeping check on him now and again. In Hibernia our laws about the care of the elderly are very strict.’

‘Sister Gisa often visits the old man. There is some talk that Aistulf is a member of her family. Gisa was born in this valley.’

Fidelma glanced back towards Sister Gisa. She seemed engrossed with the injured Brother Faro and had obviously not noticed the old man on the hill.

‘Tell me about Tolosa. What is it like?’ she asked, trying to find a subject to speak of rather than not talk at all.

Not for the first time she became aware of a passing look of suspicion in the elderly man’s eyes.

‘Why are you interested?’ he countered.

‘Among my people we have a saying that knowledge comes by asking questions. It is because I have never been to that city that I would know something of it.’

Magister Ado considered for a moment and then said, ‘It is a city in ruins, as Radoald observed, though not as desolate as he believed. The great basilica, the abbey, still stands with its library. However, if it were not for the want of our library, I might never have been persuaded to make the journey.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Our scriptor Brother Eolann heard that the abbey in Tolosa had a copy of the Life of the Blessed Martyr Saturnin , who founded the abbey there. He persuaded me to take a copy of the Life of Columbanus and exchange it for the book on Saturnin. Bobium has one of the greatest libraries in Christendom, and we are justly proud of it. Our wealth is in our books.’

‘Would your enemies know that you had travelled to Tolosa to get this book? Is it as valuable to them as it is to your abbey?’

‘I declare, you are a vexatious young lady, to keep dwelling on this question.’

‘Questions, as I have said, are a path to knowledge.’

‘And sometimes knowledge can be dangerous. Especially when there are people about with evil intent.’

‘Better is knowledge of evil than evil without knowledge,’ countered Fidelma.

Magister Ado began to frown in annoyance, and then, unexpectedly, threw back his head and burst into laughter.

‘Being away from Bobium, I had forgotten the method of argument of my Hibernian brethren. Is this truly the way that you are taught in your land?’

‘By question and answer?’

‘By taking one answer and forming another question from it?’

‘An answer always leads to another question. There is no ultimate answer, for if there was, we would never have progress.’

Magister Ado exhaled with resignation and, somewhat irritably, conceded: ‘It seems all those born in Hibernia are philosophers.’

‘Not all of us,’ Fidelma replied dryly. ‘Though all of us think we are.’

They continued on in silence for a while. Behind them, Brother Faro and Sister Gisa sometimes murmured together while the warriors and the two farmers were generally silent, guiding their pack mules. They passed along the river banks, by the swirling waters, under the shade of the tall trees that lined the track. Once or twice they saw men fishing, who raised a hand in greeting as they passed by.

‘The local folk have the right to fish the river,’ explained Magister Ado. ‘There are many good fish to be caught here, especially loach.’

Apart from the few fishermen, they encountered no one else on the track as it followed the bends and flow of the river.

‘You can now see the top of Mont Pénas behind those trees there!’ Magister Ado exclaimed, pointing. ‘It is the tallest mountain in these parts and Bobium is situated on its lower reaches.’

All the mountains seemed to be far taller than those Fidelma had observed before. As they swung around a bend of the river, and emerged through the trees to a section of open stony land, she could see a large watery confluence which seemed to create a broad headland on the far bank. There were many little rivers apparently rising from the mountains which flowed into the main course of the Trebbia. One such large stream joined the Trebbia from the north-east, and on the resulting right-angled headland rose many small buildings, while further up the hillside was a large complex of structures with a tower, contained within high walls.

‘Bobium!’ The word came from Magister Ado almost as a sigh. He turned to Fidelma and smiled. ‘That is Bobium. This is where your countryman, Colmbanus, came with his disciples to settle.’

Fidelma gazed in appreciation at the surrounding countryside; at the rivers, the tall mountains, the lush green forests. She could see why Columbanus had been enamoured with the spot. There was something reminiscent about the land of Éireann … something, but it was not quite the same.

‘How do we get to the far bank?’ she asked. The waters of the Trebbia that separated them from the abbey were now broad and quite turbulent, rushing over the stony riverbed. Magister Ado merely smiled and pointed ahead of them. She followed his outstretched hand and could make out, not far ahead, a long stone bridge connecting one bank to the other. It was the most curious construction that she had ever seen, since it was built in a series of arches, but the method of construction had resulted in a series of humpbacks.