Peter Tremayne - The Dove of Death

‘I have a duty to the dead and to justice,’ replied Fidelma simply. ‘And if there is a chance that some of the crew of the vessel that we were on are still alive, then it is my duty also to effect the rescue.’

‘Then God protect you in that desire,’ the woman sighed. ‘Ah, here is Brother Metellus coming back to join us.’

The stocky Roman came striding down the path to where they sat, and they saw he was smiling happily.

‘Good news,’ he greeted them, waving aside an offer of cider from Aourken. ‘I came to tell you that there is word that Biscam, the merchant, and his brothers are close by. They should be at the abbey tomorrow before nightfall. They will stay with us no more than a day or so, which means I can soon head back to Houdig and you can both be on your way to Naoned.’

‘Good news, indeed,’ Eadulf responded, but he was aware that Fidelma did not seem to share their enthusiasm.

‘We’ve just been discussing the situation, Brother Metellus,’ she said quietly. ‘It seems there is a possibility that the ship that attacked us and captured the Barnacle Goose might be harboured in a place called the Little Sea.’

Brother Metellus was astonished. ‘Morbihan!’ he exclaimed. He glanced at Aourken. ‘What makes you think so?’

‘I was just telling them about the Little Sea.’ The elderly woman shrugged. ‘I made no other speculation.’

‘Do not blame Aourken,’ Fidelma said. ‘Some instinct tells me that the attackers came from along this coast and took the Barnacle Goose back to their hiding-place. I have now learned there is an entrance here into an inner sea which is where the ship could have come from.’

Brother Metellus drew up a stool to sit down.

‘Have you heard of such a vessel in those waters, Aourken?’ he demanded of the woman as she continued to work with distaff and spindle.

‘In truth, I have not, Brother,’ she responded obediently. ‘Although some of the farms have been raided by strangers and their barns burned and stock taken. No one knows where these raiders came from. But if they came from a ship that had somehow managed to hide in Morbihan, you could search for all eternity and not find it.’

‘I agree,’ Brother Metellus said heavily. ‘I have seen the extent of Morbihan, the Little Sea. Even if you were given months and a fast sail boat, you could not hope to search it thoroughly.’

‘I still intend to examine this place tomorrow morning from the mound you inform me of,’ Fidelma set her features stubbornly.

‘I told her of the grave of Tumieg,’ explained Aourken.

Brother Metellus actually smiled.

‘In that case, once you have seen the extent of the Morbihan, you will realise that what I say is correct. And by tomorrow evening, Biscam will be here and you will soon be able to start your journey home.’

Fidelma had risen early the next day and, with Eadulf, set off on the path that Aourken had pointed out. The journey had not been profitable other than providing them with some breathtaking views of the sea and countryside that surrounded them. They had seen no more of the black cat that Fidelma had identified as Luchtigern — the Mouse Lord — from the Barnacle Goose . Eadulf was still unsure whether Fidelma had correctly identified the animal or not. It seemed incredible that it had escaped from the ship. The fruitless walk to the grave of Tumieg and back had not put him in a good mood.

It was true that the walk around the sandy bay, keeping to the high ground above it, and then climbing to the ancient stone barrow, was pleasant enough in the sun. However, Eadulf was concerned at Fidelma’s lack of interest at securing their immediate homeward passage and her idea that she could track down their attackers. Reaching the spot to which they had been directed, the highest point so far as they could see, they had been met with a spectacular view to the north of an inland sea dotted with a myriad of islands. So many that they seemed to merge into one another as if they were one mass of land. Only now and then did the passage of a small boat show the channels between the islands.

The main movement was the circling birds above — mallards, plovers and even teals — all combining the cacophony of their cries into a noisy concert of protest at human presence around the mound. Fidelma and Eadulf saw no sign of anyone on their journey there, nor as they stood looking across the strange seascape before them.

Fidelma stared hard at the islands, but there were no anchored ships that resembled either the Barnacle Goose or the sleek black ship that had attacked them. She was reluctant to drag herself away from the scene and it was Eadulf who finally voiced the conclusion.

‘The old woman was right. Aourken told us that this Little Sea was so vast and thick with islands that, even if the Barnacle Goose had been brought there, we might not be able to find it if we scoured the area for months in a small boat.’

Fidelma sighed; the slump of her shoulders indicating resignation.

‘Yet where did that cat come from?’ she demanded.

Eadulf decided to take the question as rhetorical and refrained from answering.

She delayed a moment longer, sweeping the horizon with her keen eyes, before turning and suggesting that they begin their return journey. In other circumstances, Eadulf might have enjoyed the warmth and smells of the countryside, the gentle whispering of the nearby sea as it teased the coast. Even the crying birds, the multi-species, should have provided a distracting interest but failed in the circumstances.

The sun was past its zenith when they reached Aourken’s stone cabin and found the woman taking fresh bread from her clay oven. She smiled at their arrival and immediately bustled about to provide them with bowls of fish soup and fresh bread.

‘You saw the Little Sea?’ asked the woman, after they were seated.

‘It was everything you said it was,’ Eadulf answered philosophically.

Aourken looked at Fidelma keenly. ‘But you did not see what you were hoping to see?’

‘I saw what you told me that I would see,’ Fidelma admitted quietly. ‘I saw little else.’

Aourken nodded thoughtfully. ‘It is a beautiful place. But, I am thinking that you were not looking at the beauty.’

‘You are right.’

‘The sea and sadness go together,’ reflected the old woman. ‘Come, sit you down and eat. You have had a long walk.’

Fidelma sat down, feeling depressed. She had been hoping against hope that she would have been able to discover something that would lead her to an explanation of Luchtigern’s strange appearance at the abbey. The only way that the animal could have arrived there was if the ship itself had put into some harbour close by. But why would he desert the ship which had always been his home? She knew a male cat was more likely to wander than a female, but a ship’s cat was usually very territorial.

‘If the pirates were hiding somewhere in Morbihan,’ volunteered Aourken, ‘as Brother Metellus said, there is hardly a chance at all of spotting them…’ She paused as she was placing bread on the table and suddenly looked thoughtful. Fidelma caught her change of expression.

‘You have thought of something?’ she asked hopefully.

‘If there is a sea-raider in these waters then perhaps our mac’htiern might have word of it.’

‘The lord of this territory?’ enquired Eadulf. ‘This Lord Canao who has been mentioned?’

‘Our chieftain, he occupies the curule magistracies .’

‘But we were told he was not here but at Naoned,’ Fidelma pointed out.

Aourken shrugged at the news. ‘So he has not returned? I did not know. A pity. He is a good man and is patron of the abbey. I taught his daughters Latin grammar when they were young.’ She sighed with nostalgic remembrance. ‘That I do miss, although they were a handful. The younger daughter — well, she was his foster-daughter — was very ambitious and, alas, very arrogant.’ The old woman smiled wistfully. ‘She once told me that when she grew up, she would rule not only this peninsula but all of Bro-Waroch and every kingdom of the Bretons…’