Peter Tremayne - The Dove of Death

While he waited for her to finish, Eadulf sat on the low windowsill, looking out across the shores and waters of the Morbihan. Now that the dusk had swept over the area he could see lights appearing across the waters, indicating where the myriad islands must be occupied. He also saw lights along the foreshore below the fortress, moving this way and that, which fascinated him for it was not indicative of dwellings but rather of people moving along the shore and even boats setting out to sea. Then, to his surprise, he saw a large dark outline of a ship moving slowly in the gloom. He could just make out its dark lines being towed by two small rowing boats. Then it stopped in the centre of the bay below.

Fidelma had finished combing her hair and he called her over to point this out.

‘It is strange there is so much movement once darkness has fallen,’ she agreed. ‘This is a time when most people should be at the evening meal.’

‘But the ship,’ Eadulf said. ‘Do you think it is…?’

‘If it is, we must be careful. We must not allow them to know that we suspect them.’

‘Can we trust Brother Metellus?’

Before she could reply, the slim, mournful-looking servant returned to announce that Macliau and Trifina were ready to receive their guests for the meal.

Brother Metellus was already seated at the long wooden table in the great hall when Fidelma and Eadulf were shown in. The great hall was lit with ornate bronze oil lanterns, rather like the type called lespaire in Fidelma’s own land. On the table were several candles that gave a warming glow.

Macliau came forward to greet them, appearing as charming as ever. His sister, Trifina, remained in her chair and gave them an expressionless smile of welcome. There were three other guests — two men and the voluptuous-looking Argantken, still arrayed in colourful attire that was very distracting. Ignoring them, she sat eating from a bowl of nuts and swallowing large mouthfuls of what seemed to be white wine from a glass.

Of the two men, one was the tall, handsome-looking warrior called Bleidbara, the commander of the warriors at Brilhag. The second guest was a stranger to them. He was a tall, sallow-faced man of middle age clad in long woollen robes that had once been white but grown dull with age. His dark hair was streaked with grey; he wore it long, with a drooping moustache but was otherwise clean-shaven in the old Celtic fashion. A thin band of burnished copper encircled his head. Around his neck was a gold chain hung with an ancient symbol, a circular solar motif. His cheeks seemed pale and bloodless, in contrast to his thin red lips. In fact, it crossed Eadulf’s mind that the man must have reddened them with berry juice. The dark eyes were restless, moving constantly while they held an unfathomable quality. His bland expression, on the other hand, seemed to hold no emotion.

Macliau introduced him. ‘This is my father’s bretat . Iarnbud.’

‘ Bretat ?’ The word seemed so similar to her own language that Fidelma hazarded a guess. ‘Are you a judge, a breitheamh ?’

Iarnbud, like many she had by now encountered, spoke Latin, although it was not the old literary language which she had been taught but a curious rolling dialect.

‘Just so, lady. Exactly as you are, for I have been speaking to Brother Metellus as to who you are and how you came here.’

Macliau waved them to chairs at the table. He took the head of the table with his constant companion, the little dog, curled at his feet. They learned that the animal was named Albiorix, which brought a smile to Fidelma’s face. When Eadulf later asked her what the joke was, she explained the name, that literally meant ‘great king’, was the name of a Gaulish god of war equated with the Roman Mars; a curious name for such a docile looking animal. Eadulf had responded that it probably had more to do with Macliau’s character than that of the dog. Fidelma was seated on Macliau’s left and Trifina on his right. Brother Metellus sat next to Fidelma, and the girl, Argantken, had already taken a seat at the bottom opposite Brother Eadulf, with Iarnbud seated between Eadulf and Trifina. At the end of the table, facing Macliau, was Bleidbara.

‘It is good to meet with a Brehon of this land,’ Fidelma opened as the wine was poured. It was a cold white wine from the country. ‘Brother Metellus has obviously told you of the murder and thefts that have taken place. I am interested in your law here. How would you attend to this matter?’

The drawn eyebrows were raised but there was no other expression on the sallow face of the man called Iarnbud.

‘Attend to it?’

‘How would you set about tracking down these thieves and murderers?’

Iarnbud shook his head. ‘That is not my task. It is only once they are caught that the culprits are brought before me and arraigned for judgement.’

‘So who tracks them down and brings them before you?’ pressed Fidelma.

‘Those who charge them.’

Fidelma gave a puzzled shake of her head, saying, ‘There is no office under your law that would be responsible to undertake an investigation to find out the culprits?’

Macliau intervened with a smile.

‘That is the duty my father would assign to his warriors, such as Bleidbara there.’ He indicated the young man.

Fidelma turned with a gaze of enquiry to the young man, who seemed to have developed a high colour on his cheeks. He made a dismissing gesture with his left hand.

‘In truth, lady, I am trained in warfare and the command of men in battle. I can track men as well as animals. But unless they leave tracks for me to follow, I cannot find them.’

‘There are tracks from the scene of the murders of the merchants,’ Eadulf pointed out. ‘Have you examined them?’

‘I sent Boric, my best tracker, who is also my second-in-command, to examine the spot and retrieve the bodies,’ Bleidbara replied. ‘He is not back yet. But the sky was darkening and perhaps it was too late to see anything — there would be nothing to follow. Nonetheless, we will await his report. We are anxious to meet up with these brigands.’

Fidelma became aware that, as he spoke, Bleidbara seemed to concentrate his gaze on Trifina. His expression was one of almost dog-like devotion, his eyes never leaving her face as if ready to jump to her bidding. For her part, Trifina did not bother to glance at him once. Fidelma noted that the warrior was a personable young man with an affable smile and ready wit. She was just wondering what their relationship was when Trifina suddenly yawned, placed a hand over her mouth and murmured an apology to Macliau.

Her brother seemed to take the hint.

‘Come, let us turn our minds to more pleasant matters.’ He glanced towards Fidelma and Eadulf. ‘We have prepared a special meal for you because you are strangers to our land.’

He signalled to a waiting attendant and, from a side door, others brought in flagons of cider and more of the local white wine. The mournful young servant girl now appeared and started to direct the attendants with some authority as they served the evening meal. Her whole attitude had changed from subservience to authority. Fidelma’s quick eye caught the special attention that this girl seemed to be giving the commander of the guard, Bleidbara, while the young man still seemed to exhibit an unusual interest in Trifina. This body language at the table amused Fidelma, for it was clear that the young warrior was attracted by the daughter of the mac’htiern of Brilhag, while the servant girl was obviously attracted by him .

Bowls of steaming soup were placed before them and platters of freshly baked bread. Eadulf examined the soup, stirring it with a frown of curiosity.