Peter Tremayne - The Dove of Death

‘Very well. If there is more than one logical interpretation of these facts, then it is the task of the dálaigh to investigate and discover which is the correct one,’ she said at last.

Eadulf was about to respond when there was a knock on the door. It was the mournful girl who had been in charge of the servants during the night before.

‘I beg your pardon,’ she said, ‘but I heard your voices and wondered whether I can be of assistance to you? I can order the preparation of your breakfast, if you wish.’

Automatically Fidelma replied that they would wash first and come down for breakfast later.

The girl inclined her head and was about to leave the chamber when a thought suddenly occurred to Fidelma.

‘Wait,’ she called. The girl turned expectantly back into the room. ‘What is your function here?’

‘I am the stewardess of this household, in charge of the running of its domestic affairs and of all the household attendants.’

‘You speak excellent Latin,’ Fidelma commented. ‘What is your name?’

‘Iuna, lady.’ A faint smile hovered on the girl’s lips but did not form completely. It was as if she had disciplined her features to remove all emotions from them. ‘You are about to observe how can a mere servant be educated? This is Armorica, lady — although we now call it Little Britain by virtue of the refugees from Britain that have flocked to our shores during recent centuries.’

She seemed to offer it as an explanation. Eadulf remained puzzled and said so, and therefore the girl continued with further explanation.

‘This was part of Gaul, conquered by the Romans, and it became a province of their empire centuries ago. Many of the great families were brought up for generations as bilingual, with Latin as well as their native tongue. You will even find that many of the Britons who came here were also adept in Latin, for Britain, too, was a province of Rome. So many people speak Latin quite naturally and as well as they speak their own language.’

‘Ah,’ smiled Eadulf, ‘then it also explains why your Latin is so different from that which we were taught.’

Fidelma thought she should say something here in case the girl thought he was insulting her command of the language.

‘My land, Hibernia, was never part of the Roman empire, and the Latin we have learned is from the texts, not the colloquial form that you speak as a living language. I have noticed that Iarnbud also speaks a Latin that does not derive from the ancient texts.’

The girl shrugged as if she was uninterested. However, Fidelma saw a glimmer of suspicion in her eyes.

‘How long have you been in service here?’ she asked.

‘Most of my life,’ the girl replied shortly. ‘Now if there is anything you desire…?’

‘What are your bathing customs here?’ Fidelma attempted to mollify her. ‘We did not bathe last night and I should have asked but neglected to do so.’

‘You have only to express your wishes, lady,’ replied the girl. ‘They will be fulfilled.’

As Eadulf knew, the people of Fidelma’s land bathed daily, generally in the evening when, before the main meal, they had a full body wash in hot water. It was a custom Eadulf still found slightly alien, for he had grown up when a bath, apart from a swim in a local river, was very infrequent. Baths were attended with perfumes and soap called sléic . In the morning, it was the custom to wash only the face and hands and often in cold water. So Fidelma passed on her wants to the girl and was assured that bowls of water would be brought to them immediately, together with any toilet articles that might be wanted.

When they eventually came down into the great hall for breakfast, they found no one else there except the girl, luna, preparing the table.

‘I believe that Macliau still sleeps as he was late to bed,’ she explained when Fidelma asked where everyone was. ‘Iarnbud left in the night. He never accepts the hospitality of the fortress but prefers to sleep on his small boat…if he ever sleeps.’

Fidelma’s eyes narrowed at the comment. ‘What do you mean?’

‘The bretat is a strange man. He was raised in these islands,’ the girl gestured with a hand. ‘He sails the Morbihan at night when seamen fear to sail the dangerous waters. It is said that he is of the old religious and communes with the Otherworld. He wanders the woods and forests and islands almost as a recluse, and yet he appears here whenever lord Canao has need of him.’

‘More superstition,’ muttered Eadulf in the language of Éireann.

‘And where is the lady Trifina?’ asked Fidelma, ignoring the comment.

‘She left the fortress before first light.’

Fidelma was surprised. ‘Is that usual?’ she asked.

‘It is not my place to comment on what the Lady Trifina does,’ replied the girl softly.

‘Of course. And Brother Metellus?’

‘He was late to bed as well. I believe that Macliau and Brother Metellus were slightly the worse for drink.’ Iuna’s voice was disapproving.

‘And the girl, Argantken?’

‘I have no idea where Macliau’s guest is.’ The voice this time held an obvious meaning. ‘She is a local girl and may come or go as she pleases. Now, is there anything you desire for breakfast?’

Fidelma had the passing impression that it was Iuna who was in charge of them rather than being the servant fulfilling their wishes.

They chose a frugal breakfast of barley bread, some cheeses and cold spring water. And when they had finished, Fidelma asked: ‘Will there be any objection to our leaving the fortress?’

The girl’s eyes narrowed slightly.

‘You are guests,’ she replied. ‘You are free to come and go as you will. But what should I tell lord Macliau and your companion, Brother Metellus, when they discover that you have gone?’

Fidelma was patient.

‘I hope we shall return before they are even awake. It was my desire merely to take a stroll along the shoreline below us.’

‘Then it might be advisable, lady, to take one of the guards for your protection.’

‘We will be within sight of the fortress, just along the inlet below.’

The girl opened her mouth as if to protest and then seemed to realise it was not her place to do so.

‘As it pleases you, lady,’ she said tightly.

They left the great hall and walked down to the main gates that were opened, although two warriors stood guard by them. One of the warriors greeted them and Fidelma responded before passing on. They were not questioned and no one objected to their passage, which Eadulf had been expecting, fully believing they were prisoners. Now he began to wonder whether his fears about Brilhag were valid. He silently followed Fidelma along a winding pathway that led across the headland to make a rapid descent to the shore.

The sun was higher now, and slightly behind them. The mist had cleared from the stretch of water before them, which was now reflecting the blue of the sky. The nearest islands stood out clearly, although they became hazier in the distance.

Halfway down the path, Fidelma glanced back across her shoulder towards the fortress. Then at the shoreline before them.

‘This is where we saw those lights last night, along this stretch,’ she said. Then she added quietly, ‘Don’t look round, but we are being followed.’

Eadulf stiffened a little. ‘Followed? By whom? The guards did not seem to be interested in us.’

‘I think it is Iarnbud. I am not too sure.’

Eadulf compressed his lips in annoyance. He had been about to dismiss his fears about their being prisoners and now they swam back into his mind again.

‘Is it just he who is watching us?’

‘Just he,’ she replied, turning and moving quickly on, following the steep path as it wound down to the sandy shore. Then she halted. She had been expecting to find a line of fishermen’s huts or other buildings from which the lights had emanated. There was nothing. Stepping onto the white sands of the beach, she looked up and down. There was nothing to be seen in either direction. Eadulf regarded her with a puzzled expression as she began to walk along the beach, eyes down, concentrating on the sand, going 100 metres or more before turning back and then walking the same distance in the opposite direction.