Peter Tremayne - The Dove of Death

‘I have not for a while. This part of the villa is usually the province of the attendants. I doubt she would come here.’

‘I am surprised the kitchens are deserted.’

‘Well, the villa is not expecting guests and so the lady Trifina has no need of many workers in her kitchens.’

‘This villa is run very much in Roman style, isn’t it?’ queried Eadulf, interested in what he had seen.

The young man seemed diffident.

‘I would not know,’ he said. ‘It seems a normal way of living to me.’

‘Of course. You are Greek. This way of life is not usual in the far west.’ Eadulf hesitated but he sensed the Greek was growing tired of his questions and so he decided not to press him further. ‘Well, Heraclius of Constantinopolis, I thank you for your help. Indeed, I should probably thank you for my life.’

‘The warriors who plucked you from the sea managed to make you vomit the seawater from your belly, otherwise you might have drowned. They should be thanked. I did but little.’

‘In that case,’ responded Eadulf, ‘I shall thank you for that little you did do. What was the name of the warrior who saved me?’

‘I am not sure. You will have to ask Bleidbara.’ Heraclius turned away before he saw the surprise on Eadulf’s features.

In deep thought, Eadulf left the apothecary and went out into the courtyard. Instead of exiting by the way he had come, he walked slowly around the far side of the rectangular court to examine the building which he realised was very Roman in structure and also old. Clearly, in the days of the empire of Rome this had been built to demonstrate the wealth of the owners. He also realised that this courtyard could not be the only one in the villa, for the main courtyard would be reserved for the convenience of Trifina and her guests. He wondered whether there was some way of reaching it without retracing his steps. There was a small door at the far side of the courtyard.

He tried the handle and found that it opened out onto a small and pleasant garden, filled with herbs and plants doubtless destined for the use of the cooks. It was walled and on the far side was yet another door. He crossed the garden and again he found that once the internal bolt had been withdrawn, the door opened easily. The first thing that struck him was the salt tang of the sea, and he found himself gazing across the open waters to the eastern side of the island. But he was distracted immediately by a stronger, more curious smell. He noticed a small stone-built hut standing a little way from the outer walls of the villa and the smell seemed to permeate this building. It contrasted strongly with the balmy sea air.

Curiosity compelled Eadulf to walk towards the grey stone building. Then he heard a cry, a shout as if of warning, from below. He glanced down and caught sight of a small craft almost below him. It was a small sailing dinghy with its sail furled and one person standing up in it, gazing upwards towards him.

Eadulf started, his eyes widening as he recognised the features of larnbud.

At that moment, he began diving into a dark whirlpool; he had a split second of consciousness before the dive began, when the thought registered that someone had hit him on the back of the head.

‘Well, Sister Fidelma,’ Trifina was saying slowly. ‘You seem very interested in that ship?’

Fidelma’s mind raced for a plausible reason as to why she should be hiding behind some bushes watching Bleidbara’s departure. She decided that honesty was the best policy.

‘I was wondering why a warship — for its lines proclaim that it is no merchantman — should be anchored off this island,’ she said defensively.

Trifina gazed thoughtfully at her.

‘The ship is called the Morvran and it is in the service of my family,’ she said. ‘If you remember, it is the same ship that Bleidbara informed you that he was captain of the other night — the same ship that was anchored in the inlet below Brilhag. When I need to come here, this is the ship that transports me. There is nothing sinister about it.’

‘You did not tell me that Bleidbara was here,’ Fidelma remarked.

‘Why should I need to? I did mention that I would send one of my men back to Brilhag to inform them that you and Eadulf were here on this island with me. I have sent Bleidbara.’

Fidelma did not respond, her mind rapidly turning over the information.

Trifina saw her concentration.

‘Shall I tell you what you are thinking, Fidelma of Hibernia? You see the banner of my father that flies from the great mast? It bears an emblem of a dove, doesn’t it? I’ll lay a wager with you. When your own ship, the Barnacle Goose , was attacked, my wager is that the attacker bore the same emblem. You are now thinking that you have discovered the ship that attacked you. Am I not right in this assumption?’

Fidelma had been so careful to withhold this important information from Trifina or Macliau. Only Eadulf and Brother Metellus knew about the dove emblem. Now, here was Trifina, confronting her with the knowledge. She ran her tongue around her lips.

‘The thought did occur to me,’ she admitted slowly. It was useless to deny it. ‘Your wager was a safe one.’

An expression of satisfaction crossed Trifina’s face.

‘Take a good look at Bleidbara’s ship,’ she invited. Her voice was serious now. ‘ Is it the same vessel as the one that attacked your ship?’

Fidelma turned back to see the vessel hoisting its sail and moving slowly southward along the coast. She had already realised that the colour was wrong. Although both ships were basically black in colour, the pirate ship certainly did not carry the strange orange bow that Bleidbara’s ship had. Nor were the lines of the ships similar.

‘Well?’ demanded Trifina.

Fidelma sighed. ‘The vessel is of different construction but it flies the same flag.’

‘I think you should return to the villa now, Fidelma of Hibernia,’ Trifina quietly ordered, indicating the path back. ‘You are entering into matters that are not your concern.’

The warrior accompanying Trifina stood, his hand still on the hilt of his sword as if waiting for an order from the daughter of the mac’htiern .

Fidelma began to walk slowly back up the incline. Trifina fell in step behind her.

Eadulf was about to be hanged. He was being led down a line of cowled Brothers and Sisters of the Faith, preceded by a single Brother of the community bearing an ornate metal cross. They were all chanting in an eerie fashion that sent shivers down his spine. His hands were tied behind him and the procession moved inexorably towards the platform where a single rope seemed to hang in space, formed into a noose.

The face of Abbess Fainder suddenly floated before him.

‘Abhor your sins, Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham. Life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot…that is the law.’

He wanted to cry out — ‘ But you are dead! You do not exist! ’

The noose was about his neck.

‘Let God’s will be done!’ shrieked the Abbess in his ear.

He started to scream. He was lying on damp earth. It was cold and wet against his cheek. It took him several moments to realise he was lying on the grass outside the villa on the island of Govihan. Without moving, or raising his head, he looked around. There was nothing in his area of vision and so he gently moved himself up into a sitting position and peered round again. He was alone, lying outside the still-open door that led from the villa’s herb garden.

He raised a hand to the back of his head. It came away sticky and he saw that it was covered in blood. The area was tender and throbbing.

Remembrance came back to him in a moment.