Peter Tremayne - The Dove of Death

It seemed that luck was with him all the way, for the kitchen area was devoid of movement and the apothecary’s room was still open.

He almost grabbed the key that hung from the hook inside and, clutching it tightly, he broke into a trot as he hurried back and breathlessly rejoined Fidelma. She had taken the opportunity to rest and was sitting with her back against the stone hut, looking moodily out over the waters.

‘Well?’ she enquired.

‘I have it,’ muttered Eadulf, and quickly inserted the key into the lock. It fitted. In his nervousness it took him a few attempts to turn it but finally it clicked and he pushed the door open.

Fidelma had risen and was at his shoulder as he moved into the noxious-smelling single room of the building. Two windows let in a bright light from the sea and there was no need for an artificial light. Perhaps it was just as well, for the smell of sulphur was overpowering and Eadulf knew that it could be flammable. The place was similar to an apothecary’s shop, for there were various jars of strange-looking concoctions on shelves around the room and a workbench. And in one corner was a potter’s wheel,

‘Pottery? And why the sulphur, I wonder?’ Eadulf mused.

Fidelma had picked up some branches of an evergreen from a workbench and peered at it curiously.

‘It looks as if someone has been extracting the resin from this. What do you make of it, Eadulf?’

He shook his head. ‘This is beyond me,’ he admitted. ‘And — look!’

Near the potter’s wheel, standing along the wall, was a line of newly made pots. Except on closer inspection they were not pots at all. They were round balls the size of a man’s head. There was neither hole nor means of ingress into them. Eadulf bent down to pick one up and found that it was not very heavy. The balls were obviously hollow, but there was a strange imbalance to the one he was holding. He raised it and jerked it from side to side.

‘It is hollow but I think there is liquid inside,’ he announced.

‘Break one open and let us see,’ advised Fidelma. ‘Whoever is mixing strange potions here, I wonder why he keeps it so secret.’

Eadulf raised the ball in both hands, ready to smash it on the ground.

‘Stop!’ cried a sharp voice. ‘Stay absolutely still, if you value your lives!’

The young apothecary, Heraclius, stood in the doorway. There was an expression akin to horror on his face.

Eadulf froze, the clay ball in his hands, staring at him in wonder. There was no doubting the intensity of fear in the young man’s tone.

‘What…?’ began Eadulf.

‘Put it down on the floor and do it gently!’ ordered Heraclius.

Eadulf slowly replaced the ball on the ground.

‘Now step away from it,’ instructed the young man, still tense.

As Eadulf did so, the young man exhaled in relief and seemed to relax his body. It lasted no more than a moment before a look of anger crossed his features.

‘How dare you break into this hut!’

‘We did not break in,’ Fidelma corrected him pedantically. ‘You will see that we opened the door and entered.’

‘Having stolen the key from my dispensary,’ Heraclius replied, not misled by semantics. ‘This is my personal domain and no one comes here but me.’

‘You seem to have something to hide,’ she replied, looking towards the clay balls.

‘Only from prying eyes and idiots,’ came the uncompromising response. ‘You are not idiots so you must be spies. Spies of the Koulm ar Maro ! Now you will come out — but make no attempt to escape. There are guards within call. We will go to see the lady Trifina.’

Fidelma exchanged a glance with Eadulf and then shrugged. They had no other choice.

They left the hut. Heraclius drew the door shut and turned the key in the lock. Making sure it was secure, he held the key firmly in his hand and motioned them back through the walled herb garden, then through the cooking area of the villa and into the main corridor, halting finally outside the room where Trifina had first received Fidelma. Heraclius addressed the warrior who stood on guard outside and the man knocked on the door. Heraclius disappeared inside.

The guard fixed them with a watchful glare, with his hand resting ready on his sword hilt.

‘What now?’ muttered Eadulf.

‘Now we will have to see what Trifina has to say,’ shrugged Fidelma. ‘There is no other course.’

In fact, it was only moments before the door opened and the young apothecary motioned them inside.

Trifina stood in front of the fire with a frown of annoyance on her face. She said something to Heraclius who gave a short bow towards her and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Trifina went to a table and poured red wine into a glass. She gazed at it thoughtfully for a moment and then held it out towards Fidelma with a look of interrogation. Fidelma shook her head. Eadulf, when it was offered to him, moved forward and took the glass. His thought was that someone who offers you wine is not going to kill you — at least, not immediately. Trifina poured another glass for herself and sat down, indicating with her free hand the chairs before her. Fidelma sank into the seat while Eadulf, feeling like a naughty child summoned before its parent, nervously seated himself.

‘So,’ Trifina said at last, shaking her head sadly, ‘what am I to do with you?’

‘It is not for me to advise you, lady,’ replied Fidelma softly.

Trifina actually chuckled. ‘Indeed not. Yet you are wandering round my villa, prying into things. I thought I made it clear that you are in territory that does not concern you.’

Fidelma decided to be blunt.

‘That depends what those things are. I told you that Riwanon asked me to investigate the mystery…’

‘The mystery of Abbot Maelcar’s death — which happened in Brilhag. Why are you really here?’

‘The location where a murder is committed does not imply that the murderer is to be found on the same spot,’ responded Fidelma.

‘That may be true,’ agreed Trifina, her voice tight. ‘I presume that you suspect me of somehow engineering the Abbot’s fate, even though I was not at Brilhag when he was killed?’

‘I do not accuse you. I simply do not like mysteries.’

‘Did you expect to find a solution in the workshop of Heraclius, perhaps? Heraclius is our apothecary and he has full permission to pursue his experiments in pursuit of his understanding of herbs and medicines.’

‘Earlier this afternoon I was seeking Fidelma,’ Eadulf interrupted, feeling he should justify himself. ‘By chance I happened to stroll through the walled garden and out to where this stone building is. I went quite innocently to examine it when I was knocked unconscious. Heraclius was nearby when I came to. I determined that Fidelma and I should investigate further.’

Trifina smiled cynically at him.

‘You are a truly loyal soul, Eadulf. This lady was nearly responsible for causing your death a few hours ago. Yet you rise from your sickbed to go sleuthing for her. And now you are claiming that Heraclius knocked you on the head, to…what? To stop you seeing into his workshop? Couldn’t he have asked you simply to leave?’

Eadulf thrust out his chin aggressively.

‘I hadn’t even seen inside it then. I was near it when I heard a shout and, looking below, I saw Iarnbud in a boat. That was when I was knocked on the head. Yet I am told you claim Iarnbud was not on this island.’

At the name of Iarnbud, Trifina set down her wine glass.

‘You saw Iarnbud ?’ she demanded. A flush had come to her face.

‘He was alone in the sailboat that Fidelma and I followed from Brilhag. However, there was no sign of Iuna in it.’