Peter Tremayne - The Dove of Death

‘You believe the attacks were committed by the same people?’ demanded Budic with a frown.

‘I do.’

Riwanon suddenly smiled broadly, then confided, ‘I have been bored these last few days. Hunting is not a pastime that appeals to me, though it is my husband’s passion. But, good sister from Hibernia, I do think that you may stimulate my wits to wrestle with these mysteries. So you think these sea raiders are from Armorica? That they might even be in this territory?’

‘I do, indeed.’

‘Then, once you have entrusted us with your evidence, they shall be tracked down and be punished as they deserve. Budic, here, shall personally lead the search for them. And if there be want of a vessel to transport you back to your own land, and none suitable entering our ports, my husband shall fit out such a vessel to take you and your companion to Hibernia with our condolences and with all proper reparation to your brother.’

‘You are too kind, Riwanon,’ Fidelma replied, warming towards this woman who did not seem to stand behind rank or ceremony. She sensed a person of her own temperament and thoughts. ‘Brother Metellus has served us well; not only do we owe him our lives but he has been invaluable as our guide and interpreter during this troubled time. I sense that his Abbot may chastise him for the service he has performed for us. The Abbot is a person of rigid ideas.’

‘His Abbot? Do you mean Maelcar?’ Riwanon seemed amused at something.

‘It was Abbot Maelcar of whom I spoke,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘Then you know him, lady?’

‘I shall make my wishes known to Maelcar,’ she replied without answering. ‘Rest assured you will have no problems from him . Have you been at the abbey long, Brother Metellus?’

Brother Metellus shook his head. ‘My duties lay on the island of Hoedig where I was able to render these folk some service. It was my duty as a Brother in Christ to do what I could for these strangers, lady, so I brought them to the mainland.’

‘You have done well, Brother. Not everyone recognises their duty, let alone fulfils it,’ sighed Riwanon.

There came the sound of a brief trumpet call from the gates of the fortress and she glanced up.

‘Ah, this may be our host Macliau or his sister Trifina returning.’

Brother Metellus, who knew something of the protocol, shook his head.

‘It does not announce the arrival of one of such rank.’ He rose and went to the door of the great hall and peered outside. They could hear his sharp intake of breath across the hall and he performed the sign of the cross. ‘ Lupus in fabula ,’ he muttered. The wolf in the fable. Eadulf frowned, trying to understand the colloquialism and then realised that it would be translated in his tongue as: speak of the Devil and he will appear.

‘What is it, Brother Metellus?’ he asked.

‘Abbot Maelcar. He comes in the company of another Brother.’

A moment later, the elderly Abbot was admitted into the great hall. His dark eyes swept the company, widening in puzzlement as they fell on Brother Metellus and then on Fidelma and Eadulf. Then his gaze came to rest on Riwanon and his expression changed to one of relief. He crossed to her quickly, halting with a slight bow.

‘Sister, I am here.’ He spoke in his native language but now Fidelma had enough familiarity to understand some simple phrases.

A look of irritation crossed the Queen’s features.

‘Abbot Maelcar,’ she replied, but in Latin, ‘I can observe the fact that you are here. We are in the company of those who better understand this language,’ she added by way of rebuke. ‘We shall continue to speak in it.’

‘I came as soon as I could,’ the Abbot continued.

‘Indeed. And why would that be?’

There was no disguising the bewilderment that moulded the Abbot’s dark features.

‘I came in answer to the summons of your husband, the King.’

There was a silence.

‘My husband is not here, Abbot Maelcar,’ Riwanon finally said. ‘He is still two or three days’ ride from here and still pursuing the boar hunt with his companions. Who sent you such a summons?’

Abbot Maelcar spread his hands in a helpless gesture.

‘I don’t understand. A messenger came to the abbey of Gildas and told me that the King demanded my presence at once at the fortress of the mac’htiern of Brilhag. I came right away with my scribe, Brother Ebolbain, who waits outside until he is needed.’

Riwanon regarded him in equal bewilderment.

‘Are you telling us that my husband is due here now? I can hardly believe he has interrupted his hunting to get here so quickly. When did this messenger arrive at your abbey?’

‘Early this morning, for my companion and I have walked across the peninsula to this place. I was informed that the King was already here with his entourage and needed to speak with me urgently,’ the abbot replied. He glared accusingly at Budic. ‘You did not send a message from your father?’

‘I am commander of my lady’s bodyguard. I am not a messenger,’ Budic answered him loftily.

‘Excuse me,’ Fidelma interrupted, not able to control her interest in this exchange, ‘but when and by whom were you told this, Abbot Maelcar?’

The elderly Abbot glanced at her with an expression of disdain, and even seemed as if he were going to ignore her, when Riwanon leaned forward and spoke in a soft but deliberate tone. ‘My sister from Hibernia asks a good question, Abbot. A reply is necessary from you.’

Abbot Maelcar flushed at the reproof.

‘As I said, early this morning,’ he replied with a surly tone and looking at the Queen instead of Fidelma, ‘a messenger, presenting himself as being sent from King Alain, came to the abbey and gave me the impression that the King needed my urgent attendance. I had some religious offices to perform,’ he half-shrugged, ‘but as soon as these were fulfilled, Brother Ebolbain and I set out for this place.’

‘And this messenger from the King, where is he?’ pressed Fidelma. ‘Did he accompany Ebolbain and yourself?’

Abbot Maelcar looked at Riwanon as if seeking her approval before he should answer. The glint in her eye told him that he should.

‘The messenger came on here before us. Should he not be sent for, to explain this matter instead of people demanding answers of me ?’

Riwanon glanced at Fidelma. ‘Now here is a mystery, indeed, my sister,’ she said softly.

Abbot Maelcar moved restlessly, unable to understand their curious behaviour.

‘The messenger has not returned here because he was not sent from here,’ Riwanon said patiently. ‘The King, my husband, has not been here — nor do we expect him for several days.’

‘Then why…?’ began the abbot hopelessly.

Riwanon chuckled softly.

‘Was I not saying that I was bored? Now it seems that I have too much stimulation — not one, but several mysteries to set my wits racing. Fidelma, you say that it is your task in your own land of Hibernia to solve such conundrums? Then there are plenty here for you to take on.’

Fidelma’s mind was turning over this latest twist.

‘It may well be that this is part of the same mystery, Riwanon; the mystery that has led us along the path to this place,’ she said. ‘Who, if it were not your husband, would use his name to bring the Abbot here? And for what purpose? Is there some connection with the attack on the merchants?’

Riwanon glanced at Abbot Maelcar and extended her hand towards a chair.

‘In expectation of answers to be gained at some time, perhaps the good Abbot should sit with us and be comfortable for a while. It would be fruitless for you, Abbot Maelcar, to return to your abbey before those answers are presented. I presume that your scribe…Brother Ebolbain? Yes, Brother Ebolbain, can be given hospitality among the servants?’