Peter Tremayne - The Dove of Death

Macliau glanced nervously at Barbatil and then back to Fidelma. His eyes seemed to ask a question.

‘It is Barbatil’s right to hear what you have to say,’ Fidelma said.

Macliau tried to gather his thoughts. ‘I was going on a hunt,’ he frowned, as if trying to remember.

‘You left Brilhag with your companion Argantken,’ prompted Fidelma. ‘You also had four companions, two warriors and two huntsmen.’

He stared at the stone floor as if examining something there.

‘I took my two huntsmen and two warriors,’ he agreed slowly. ‘I was hoping to return by nightfall.’

‘But you did not. So what happened?’ pressed Fidelma.

‘The hunting was bad. Argantken was tired and so I took her to the old oratory where I thought we could rest and take refreshment. It was Argantken who suggested that while we…while we rested, the huntsmen and the others could go and try to track down a wild boar or a deer. So they left us there.’

‘In the oratory?’

‘Exactly. Night eventually came on and we had lit a fire. I wondered why our companions had not returned. Anyway, we had food that we had taken with us as well as drink, so we decided to remain there and not to attempt the ride back to Brilhag that night.’

‘There was no sign of your companions at all?’

‘None. I admit it was curious, but I assumed they might have lost the way back to the oratory.’

‘Was that feasible? Had you been in this area before?’

Macliau frowned as if apparently thinking about the matter for the first time, before saying, ‘It is true that we had hunted before in that very area.’

‘So we can discount the idea that they could not find the way back to the oratory. Yet you were not so alarmed that you felt you should return at once to Brilhag?’

‘Why would I be alarmed? Oh, you mean the brigands.’ Macliau shook his head. ‘But I am the son of the mac’htiern . Why should we be afraid of robbers?’

‘Why, indeed?’ Barbatil said loudly, when the remark was translated to him. ‘He was one of them.’

Fidelma frowned warningly at the farmer before returning to Macliau.

‘So you remained in the oratory that night?’

‘Yes. We ate, drank and fell asleep. When I awoke, he,’ he pointed angrily to Barbatil, ‘and his friends were throwing me into a stream. Me, the son of their lord!’

Fidelma looked at him closely. ‘Are you telling me that you knew nothing between the time you went to sleep and being awoken by Barbatil?’

Macliau kept his eyes on the floor; it seemed as if he was trying to remember. Slowly, his eyes cleared and a look of horror came over his face.

‘I was asleep,’ he said slowly. ‘And…and then I came awake and someone was holding me down. Yes, I remember that now. The fire had died and all I could see were shadows. Someone forced my mouth open and someone else was pouring strong drink into me. I thought I was going to drown — I choked and struggled to no avail, and I finally passed out. When I came to, someone was hitting me. Then I was thrown into a cold stream. People were yelling at me. Attacking me. They claimed that I had stabbed Argantken — that she was dead. They bound me and dragged me along. I was still only half-conscious but I saw some of them carrying a body. Argantken’s body. Then I knew it was not a bad dream. It was true that the poor girl was dead. I remember that I had that one thought before I passed out again. I do not know how long I was unconscious.’

He paused. No one spoke.

Macliau rubbed a filthy hand across his face, streaked with tears. ‘When I came to again, I was in a dark, muddy place. It stank; as I do now. I saw it was a pen, filled with pigs. Then I found the body of Albiorix. They had killed him and thrown his body into the pigsty with me.’

Fidelma held up her hand and addressed Barbatil. ‘You did that?’

‘I told you — he killed the animal. It was his dog. So after we have hanged him we shall bury him with the dog on top of him. That is an insult among our people.’ The farmer showed no sign of guilt or remorse.

Fidelma exhaled softly and, with a shake of her head, turned back to Macliau again. She raised her hand before he could speak.

‘I know you say that you could not kill your dog, but continue: what did you do next?’

‘I tried to get out of the pigpen but someone had barred the means of exit. It took me all night, trying my strength against it. It was not long before daybreak that I managed to create a small burrow, whereby I crawled out. I managed to get into some nearby woods, and went through them, wondering where to make for. I had just realised that I was nearer to the abbey than Brilhag when I began to hear the cries of people whom I knew instinctively were my pursuers. I had to make it to the abbey. I ran. I ran as no one has ever had to run before. I nearly fell with exhaustion but then…then I saw the chapel and Brother Metellus, and I fell on my knees before him, begging him to shelter me from the fiends who were after me.’

‘There were no fiends after you, Macliau,’ Fidelma said quietly. ‘It was a father who had lost his daughter, in a most violent and tragic way, and the friends and relatives of that father.’ She was gazing into the face of the weak, indolent young man, trying to judge the honesty of his words. Finally she shrugged and rose to her feet.

‘What of my brother?’ Trifina demanded. ‘We cannot leave him here in this state.’ As much as she had criticised her brother, it seemed that the girl did have affection for her sibling.

‘I agree,’ Fidelma replied. ‘However, as I see it, there is a case to be answered. Macliau must receive a fair hearing before one of your judges — a bretat , as you call them.’

‘Iarnbud?’ suggested Bleidbara.

Fidelma shook her head firmly. ‘He is a friend of the lord of Brilhag. No, this judge has to be independent, someone who is beyond reproach. The people of this peninsula must be confident that the judge has no favouritism towards the family of the lord of Brilhag.’

‘Then we must send for a judge from Bro-Gernev,’ Brother Metellus suggested. ‘That is the neighbouring kingdom.’

‘Would that be acceptable to you, Barbatil?’ asked Fidelma.

The farmer reluctantly indicated that if time was to be wasted in a legal hearing, then such a judge was better than one with a close association with Brilhag.

‘Very well.’ Fidelma glanced round at the company as they waited expectantly. ‘I would suggest that we secure an agreement with Barbatil there. Macliau may return to Brilhag and give his word of honour, swearing as a sacred oath, to present himself before such a judge where this matter can be fairly heard. I presume that you have the same concept in your laws as we of Hibernia have in ours? A man is bound by his honour. He will make no attempt to escape or conceal himself from justice until the time comes for the hearing. And Barbatil must take a similar oath that he will not attempt to harm, or cause to be harmed, Macliau, while he resides at Brilhag awaiting this hearing. Can that be agreed?’

Macliau was hesitant about leaving the safety of what he saw as the sanctuary of the abbey but, if guarantees were given, he agreed to accompany warriors back to Brilhag — but on a curious condition. He demanded that someone went to the farm of Barbatil to recover the carcass of his dog so that he could bury it at Brilhag.

Barbatil took a little more persuading as he saw in the plan some plot to take Macliau to the safety of the fortress and deprive him and his family of justice. Fidelma argued long and ardently through Brother Metellus and finally the farmer agreed.

Brother Metellus immediately despatched a messenger to the neighbouring western kingdom of Bro-Gernev, to ask King Gradlon to send a judge to hear the accusation against Macliau.