Peter Tremayne - The Dove of Death

Riwanon peered closer. ‘It is an image of a bird, a dove. Oh, that is the symbol of the house of Brilhag.’

‘And this was the knife that was embedded in the chest of the Abbot,’ Fidelma explained solemnly.

Riwanon seemed unperturbed.

‘Then it is a dagger that belongs to this household. It would probably mean that the killer grabbed the first item to hand to kill the Abbot. Ah, I see. That would mean that it was not a premeditated act.’ She smiled. ‘You see, I have observed our own advocates pleading in the courts and know some of the ways of their thinking.’

‘Or it could mean that the killer was part of this household,’ Fidelma corrected her. ‘Thus they would have access to the Abbot’s chamber. And who would leave a war dagger lying about? I noticed that Macliau, when he greeted us, was most particular about the placing of weapons in a room for safety. He told us that his people share an old custom with mine. No weapons were brought into the great hall but kept in that small room, over there.’ She indicated the chamber at the end of the great hall, which Macliau had showed them.

‘The custom is so strong that even your bodyguard, Budic, last night handed his weapons over. That means that the killer would have had to collect the dagger from that armoury, taking the key from its hook to unlock the door. I checked this morning. The door was still unlocked.’

‘In which case it was a premeditated act,’ Eadulf finished. ‘And the dove…’

Fidelma frowned warningly at him as she said, ‘Exactly. The dove is symbol of this household.’

The door opened and Brother Metellus returned. Trailing in his wake was a small, balding man, peering nervously about him in shortsighted fashion. His eyes were large and round, almost owl-like.

‘This is Brother Ebolbain,’ announced Brother Metellus, adding: ‘I have informed him what has happened.’

The little man nodded emphatically, moving his head up and down rapidly in a birdlike motion.

‘The Abbot slain! Terrible! Terrible!’ he muttered.

‘Come forward, Brother Ebolbain,’ instructed Fidelma, pointing to a spot before them. She re-wrapped the dagger and placed it back on the table. ‘Do you know who that lady is?’ She indicated Riwanon.

Brother Ebolbain continued the jerking of his head as he mumbled, ‘Riwanon. The wife of our King, Alain Hir.’

‘I am Fidelma of Hibernia and have been requested by your Queen to ask some questions about the death of Abbot Maelcar. Do you understand?’

Brother Ebolbain looked from Fidelma to Riwanon and back again.

‘I suppose so. I saw you outside the abbey infirmary when you were there a few days ago.’

‘So tell us, how did you and the Abbot come here?’

‘We came by foot, Sister,’ replied the monk ingenuously.

‘I meant, what caused you to come here,’ corrected Fidelma.

‘The Abbot told me to do so.’

Budic, still seated on the table, sniggered.

‘Did he explain why?’ asked Fidelma patiently.

‘Oh yes, he told me that the messenger had instructed him to meet the King, your husband,’ he turned to Riwanon, ‘as a matter of urgency.’

‘Did you see this messenger?’

‘Oh yes. He was in the Abbot’s study when the Abbot called me in.’

‘Describe him.’

This instruction caused the scribe’s eyebrows to raise. He hesitated a moment.

‘He was ordinary. A messenger — that’s all. There was nothing to mark him apart.’

‘He wore no insignia, nothing to denote he was a King’s messenger, no sign that most heralds affect to show their office?’

Brother Eboblain shrugged. ‘I suppose he must have shown the Abbot some badge of his office. I did not see it. One warrior looks much like another, to me.’

‘So he was accoutred as a warrior? He carried shield and sword?’ Fidelma said quickly.

‘I suppose he did. I did not notice.’ He thought a moment. ‘Yes, he did have a shield.’

‘Was there an emblem on it?’

‘Probably. I can’t recall. I know that, as I entered, the youth left and said he would precede us to this fortress. I have seen no sign of him among the warriors here. I have been told that the King and his escort are yet to arrive.’

‘You said that the youth left. The messenger was young then?’ Fidelma persisted in a calm voice.

‘He was slightly built and did not have much stubble on his face. Thereby I presumed him to be a youth. In all honesty, I did not look closely at him, for the Abbot was then giving me instructions.’

‘And these instructions were?’

‘To accompany him here.’

‘Did the Abbot say anything on your journey? Anything that would relate to the reason why the King had asked to meet him?’

The balding little man shook his head.

‘Can you make a guess?’

‘It is not my place to guess, lady.’

‘Perhaps guess is the wrong word,’ replied Fidelma patiently. ‘Did you have any thoughts as to this matter?’

The scribe sniffed at the rewording of the question.

‘It is my task to serve the Abbot and not to express my thoughts on the whys and wherefores of the orders he gives me.’

Eadulf suppressed a sound that was between a bark of laughter and a snort. Fidelma bit her own lip.

‘It will be a sorry world when no one can express an opinion,’ she sighed, ‘or if no one even has an opinion.’

The elderly scribe flushed, stung by the rebuke.

‘The Rule of the Blessed Benedict says that the first degree of humility is obedience without delay,’ he snapped. ‘It is the virtue of those who serve Christ and fear hell’s damnation that as soon as anything has been ordered by the superior, the Abbot, it is received as a divine command and there should be no delay in executing it, for the obedience given to the Abbot is given to God.’

Fidelma regarded him sadly.

‘So, if Abbot Maelcar had told you to go to a high cliff and jump off, you would have obeyed it as a divine command?’

Budic broke into a laugh as the scribe’s brows came together in a puzzled expression.

‘He would not have ordered it.’

‘But if he had? You say that you must obey every superior of the Faith, whatever orders they give you?’ pressed Fidelma.

‘Indeed, you are right, for that is the Rule of Benedict. But in such a matter it cannot be taken so literally,’ Brother Ebolbain replied stubbornly.

‘Where in the Rule does it say that?’ Fidelma responded sharply. ‘Are you saying that, in spite of the Rule, you can pick and choose which ones to obey? We have recently been at the Council in Autun where this Rule has been debated. There is nowhere in the Rule that says that you can choose what orders you will obey.’

‘You have clearly not read the Rule properly, Sister,’ protested the scribe. ‘There is such a Rule if the order is unreasonable.’

Fidelma eyes sparkled.

‘I know the Rule well, for it has been my task to examine it to see if it is contrary to the laws of my people,’ she told him. ‘You are the one who misunderstands, Brother. What the Rule actually says is, if a Brother is given a difficult or impossible task he must receive the order with meekness and obedience. If the task is beyond his strength, he may go to the superior and submit his reasons for his inability to carry it out. And if the superior still insists on the order, the Brother must obey, relying only on the help of God. There is no choice, my friend. No choice. Blind obedience is an evil. Caeci caecos ducentes! The blind lead the blind.’

Even Eadulf stirred uneasily as her voice grew angry. He knew that Fidelma did not tolerate those who never questioned and went blindly through life obeying rules.

Brother Ebolbain stood stiffly before her.