Peter Tremayne - The Dove of Death

Iuna had appeared and came forward to greet the newcomers. As she looked from Riwanon to the male warrior, Fidelma was sure that some form of recognition passed between Budic and Iuna, and a faint flush came to the girl’s cheeks. Then she bowed slightly towards the new arrivals and apparently greeted them in the language of the Bretons.

Riwanon regarded her thoughtfully, as she had done Fidelma, before replying, and Fidelma heard her calling the girl by her name.

‘I presume that you were not warned to expect our arrival?’ Riwanon asked, lapsing back into Latin.

‘Lord Canao has not returned, lady,’ the stewardess said. ‘We were expecting him to arrive in the company of King Alain. However, as no word has come, Macliau has gone hunting and the lady Trifina has retired to her villa for today. There is no one to greet you, save I.’

Riwanon’s lips parted in a disappointed smile.

‘Indeed? We have left my husband and Lord Canao of Brilhag about two or three days’ ride from here, pursuing wild boar in the forest. That is not to my taste and so I came on here before them.’

Then, realising that they were all respectfully standing, she waved a hand indicating the chairs.

‘You do not have to stand in my presence,’ she conceded. Then she turned to Iuna. ‘I presume that you have rooms for my entourage and myself?’

‘Of course, lady. I shall order it done. Your escort can be accommodated among our own guards.’

‘Budic will be given accommodation close to mine — and my maid must have a room next to me.’

‘It shall be done, lady.’

Riwanon turned to her female attendant. ‘Make yourself useful, Ceingar. Go with this servant and ensure that the rooms are properly prepared.’

For an instant, Iuna stood still. Fidelma noticed an offended look on her face. Then she turned abruptly and, followed by the girl called Ceingar, went off. A moment later, when another attendant came in to serve refreshments, Riwanon noticed that the others had not accepted her invitation to be seated.

‘Sit you down,’ she repeated in Latin, seeming equally at home in that or her native language. ‘Now, Fidelma — is that your name? Tell me who you are and what you are doing in this country. The Saxon, I see by his tonsure, is a religious but you were described as Fidelma of some place that I cannot pronounce, a place in Hibernia. I would like to know more of you.’

Brother Metellus stepped forward hurriedly. ‘Fidelma is also of the religious in Hibernia,’ he put in.

Fidelma glanced at him in irritation and nearly said that she could speak for herself. Riwanon caught the glance and smiled as she interpreted it correctly.

‘Come, Sister Fidelma, and tell me what brings you to our part of the world.’

Fidelma briefly explained, leaving out many of the details, such as their suspicions about Brilhag.

During her recital, Budic stood behind Riwanon’s chair, his eyes fixed thoughtfully on Fidelma. She found his appraisal slightly embarrassing, while Eadulf clearly found it annoying, for he grew restless.

‘You must rank highly among the officials of the Hibernian churches to represent them at this Council of Autun,’ Riwanon commented, for Fidelma had begun with their return from the great Council.

Fidelma corrected her.

‘I am only an advocate of the laws of my land, and my knowledge of such law was sought by the abbots and bishops attending the Council. I do not hold high ecclesiastical office.’

It was then that Budic spoke for the first time, his Latin fluent. He had a pleasant baritone voice but it held a note of arrogance.

‘Brother Metellus refers to you as “lady”. That is an unusual title among members of the Faith, even in Hibernia, is it not?’

‘My brother, Colgú, is King of Muman, which is the south-west kingdom of Hibernia.’

‘Ah, then you are a princess of rank, Fidelma,’ mused Riwanon. Then she went on, ‘But those names…I seem to have heard of them somewhere before. And recently.’

Just then, Iuna re-entered with refreshments.

‘Your attendant, Ceingar, has seen to the unpacking of your baggage and is preparing your bedchamber, lady. I presume that you and your entourage will be staying until the King arrives?’ Her words were deferential, not so her tone.

‘Your presumption is correct, Iuna.’ Riwanon smiled as she spoke, but Fidelma sensed the antagonism between the stewardess and the newcomers. It was curious, but Iuna’s attitude seemed to be less that of a servant and more that of someone of authority. However, she then proceeded to ensure that everyone had what refreshments were needed before leaving the hall.

Riwanon returned her gaze to Fidelma with a bright smile as if nothing was amiss.

‘So, Fidelma of Hibernia, tell me something more of this curious adventure that has brought you here.’

‘There is little more to say, lady,’ Fidelma replied stiffly, ‘except that I am determined to find these pirates who attacked our ship and killed my cousin. Bressal was envoy from my brother to your husband and had negotiated a trade treaty between our kingdom and this one.’

Riwanon suddenly started. Her eyes widened. ‘Your cousin? Bressal ?’

Fidelma, puzzled, affirmed it.

‘What must I have been thinking of?’ Riwanon sighed softly. ‘That is why the names seem familiar. You should have reminded me, Budic,’ she rebuked her bodyguard. ‘I met your cousin twice, Fidelma, when he came to present himself to my husband, the King, and indeed, sought a trading treaty between your brother’s kingdom and our land. He was given leave to take a cargo of salt from the salt marshes of Gwenrann. And, you say that it was his ship that was attacked and Bressal himself who was killed?’

‘And the ship’s captain, Murchad,’ added Fidelma grimly, ‘and at least two of his crew. All killed in cold blood, lady, by the leader of these sea raiders.’

‘We are sisters in rank, Fidelma,’ reproved the woman, in a friendly tone. ‘You do not have to call me anything but Riwanon.’

‘That I will do gladly,’ Fidelma replied.

‘You have my condolences,’ Riwanon continued sadly. ‘I can assure you that my husband will leave no stone unturned in a search for the culprits.’

‘But it may be that they have fled from these waters,’ pointed out Budic, without enthusiasm. ‘Alas, we have a plague of sea raiders along these coasts. They are like buzzing insects feeding on our prosperous ports. The Franks not only press our eastern borders on land but they raid along our shores. And then there are Saxon pirates from the north…’

Budic paused and glanced slyly at Eadulf; Fidelma could tell that the words had been deliberately chosen to provoke. Eadulf, a red dash on his cheeks, appeared to be studying the floor industriously and was not rising to the bait.

‘Eadulf is my husband and has long lived in my land and helped me with my duties,’ Fidelma felt moved to explain. ‘He is what is called a gerefa in his own land. A magistrate of the minor nobility of Seaxmund’s Ham.’

Budic’s grin broadened. He made to speak, but Riwanon cut in sharply. ‘I hope Budic’s words do not cause you offence, Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham.’

‘Lady, I am well aware that we are not all angels,’ Eadulf replied. ‘There is good and bad in all peoples.’

‘Speaking of which,’ Fidelma interrupted, wanting to return to the subject of the pirates, for she felt that she should solicit the help of the Queen and, if possible, the King, ‘I believe that these murderers may be of this country and not from elsewhere.’

‘Why do you say that?’ Riwanon’s eyes narrowed slightly.

‘I have some evidence which, alas, it might not be prudent for me to state publicly at this time. That is no disrespect to you, Riwanon, for you would be the first I should tell, were it discreet to do so. One piece of it I can state, and that is that we have cause to believe that the attack on those merchants carrying goods to the abbey of Gildas was carried out by the same brigands. The merchants were slain without mercy.’