Peter Tremayne - The Dove of Death

‘Argantken did not strike me as the sort who took pleasure in staying out all night in pursuit of game,’ Brother Metellus offered, but no one responded to his comment.

There was a sense of relief all round when the meal finished and it was announced that Riwanon would retire to her chamber. Now protocol allowed freedom for the rest of the company to disperse.

As Fidelma was climbing the stairway behind Eadulf, she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye: Iuna was clearing away the plates from the table in front of Budic. The warrior caught her wrist and Iuna looked down at him, shook her head and then motioned towards the kitchen and whispered something. Budic glanced around as if to be sure they had not been seen. Thankfully, he did not glance upwards and Fidelma hurried on.

Once Fidelma and Eadulf were in their own chamber, they could talk freely. Eadulf had felt inhibited about saying much in the presence of Riwanon, but now he was eager to ask questions. Fidelma could only agree with him that the absence of Macliau and Argantken, as well as Trifina and Bleidbara, was strange — as well as a breach of all the protocols surrounding hospitality.

‘And what of Abbot Maelcar?’ he demanded. ‘In truth, I have not felt so uneasy in a place since I had the misfortune to stay at the abbey of Fearna.’

Fidelma shivered slightly at the memory of how Eadulf was nearly hanged by the evil Abbess Fainder.

‘Someone wanted Abbot Maelcar to come here,’ she deduced. ‘Yes, I agree that coincidences can happen, but there are enough strange events occurring here that I feel they are happening for a purpose. Omnia causa fiunt , Eadulf. Everything happens for a reason. But we can only speculate after we have the information to do so. And that is the problem. We have no information.’

Eadulf was disappointed and said so.

Fidelma’s thoughts were preoccupied with the curious behaviour of both Abbot Maelcar and Budic towards the girl Iuna. Both seemed to know her and both surreptitiously sought her out. One to quarrel and the other apparently to have a secret assignation. What was the meaning of it?

Fidelma gave a tired smile as she slid into bed.

‘We can only see what tomorrow brings. Perhaps the mystery will soon be sorted. In the meantime, it is sleep we need more than conjecture.’

Fidelma came awake fretfully. Her mind was filled with images of the masked figure in white and that terrible moment when she saw her Cousin Bressal collapsing in his own blood on the deck of the Barnacle Goose . Yet other things, other images, crowded into her mind. She sat up in bed. The prone figure of Eadulf beside her was emitting deep, regular breaths and, for a moment, she was irritated that he was able to sleep so soundly. Then she gave an inward smile. He deserved rest. They had been through much recently.

She drew her tongue over her dry lips and realised just how parched she was. At the window, the racing clouds had passed across the bright orb of the moon and she saw the jug of water by the bed. She reached over — and found that it was empty. For a moment or two she entertained the thought of returning to sleep, but knew that her dry throat and the constant thoughts of the strange sea-raiders would keep her awake. There was no other course than to make her way down to the kitchens behind the great hall to see if she could find fresh water.

With a reluctant sigh, she swung out of the bed and drew on her robe, making her way over the cold wooden boards to find her shoes of soft leather. Then, glancing back into the gloomy half-light of the chamber, she drew open the door and passed quietly out into the corridor. In spite of her robe and the leather on her feet, the cold of the stone walls seemed to permeate her very being. The bright moon cast its light through the tall window at the end of the corridor, throwing eerie shadows.

Fidelma was moving quietly, keeping to the middle of the corridor to avoid the chests and standing vases that fringed the walls. Thus it was that when the figure seemed to leap from nowhere into her path, she had warning enough to move to avoid a collision.

The figure halted a moment and seemed to cower back. It was clear that whoever it was had not seen Fidelma’s approach, but had come rushing from a side door, beyond which a flickering candlelight spread a little illumination.

It was Fidelma who recovered first and recognised the features distorted by the blending of the half-light.

‘Iuna? I am sorry that I gave you a start.’ She then became aware of the strange posture of the girl, her visible trembling. ‘What is the matter?’

The girl did not respond but looked silently back into the room from which she had just come.

At first, Fidelma could see nothing; frowning, she walked into the room. A dancing light emanated from a candle on a table beside a bed. A figure lay on the bed, something projecting from its chest, around which spread a dark, shining substance. It was the handle of a knife.

Fidelma moved forward and looked down.

Abbot Maelcar, of the abbey of the Blessed Gildas, was dead. He had been stabbed through the heart.

A group of very worried people were huddled in the great hall as the grey light of dawn crept through the windows. Riwanon, attended by Ceingar, sat moodily before the smouldering wood fire, while a male servant tried to coax it into bright flames. Iuna stood sullenly to one side, still wearing a gown stained with the blood of the Abbot. Fidelma was standing opposite the Queen while Eadulf and Brother Metellus stood nervously by the table. Budic, fully dressed and looking relaxed and refreshed, was perched on the edge of the table, one leg swinging, wearing his perpetual grin. They had been in silence for some time while the male servant was attending to the fire. Finally, Riwanon let out a long sigh of impatience.

‘That’s enough!’ she told him. ‘We can attend to it ourselves. You may go.’

The man bobbed his head in acknowledgement and seemed glad to leave the room.

Riwanon gazed from Fidelma to Iuna and then back again.

‘Well, my sister of Hibernia? What now? You told me yesterday that you were adept at making enquiries into unnatural deaths. I ask for your advice. In fact, I now commission you to investigate this murder and am resolved to abide by your finding. You have my word.’

‘I thank you for the confidence you have shown me, lady,’ Fidelma said. ‘But I am a stranger in a strange land. I do not know your laws nor am I qualified to interpret them.’

‘I do not ask you to do so,’ Riwanon told her. ‘I ask you to find out who is responsible for this crime and then we shall sort out the laws to apply.’

‘Very well. Perhaps you will allow me to begin by ascertaining some facts?’

Riwanon made a quick gesture with her hand that implied consent, and said, ‘It is better than we make ourselves comfortable, so you may all be seated. You as well, Iuna.’

The stewardess started nervously and then sank obediently into the nearest chair.

Everyone turned to look expectantly at Fidelma.

‘Let me start with you, Iuna,’ she began, not unkindly. ‘You told me that you chanced by the Abbot’s room and found him thus. How came you there at such an hour?’

There was a sound from Budic — a curious cynical grunt — and Riwanon glared at him. The warrior grimaced as if in apology and was quiet.

‘It is my task to rise early and ensure that all is prepared for the day in this household,’ Iuna stated. ‘I have to see that the servants have brought water in, that it is ready to heat and that the fires have been rekindled, where they have been allowed to die during the night. I have to see there is enough fuel for the day. There are many things to be done.’