Peter Tremayne - The Dove of Death

‘I smell a fire,’ he announced.

They could all smell it now. Boric silently pointed to the south, away from Morbihan. There was a gap in the canopy of leafy branches that showed clear sky and something else. A column of black smoke was rising and drifting against the blue.

‘A forest fire?’ demanded Eadulf, looking at it and then glancing at the tall trees on either side of the track that suddenly seemed to grow menacingly around them.

‘I don’t think so,’ Bleidbara replied quietly. ‘That is a man-made fire.’

Boric remounted. ‘I’ll ride on ahead,’ he called over his shoulder as he urged his horse forward at a canter.

Bleidbara signalled his band to follow carefully. The smell of burning wood became stronger.

‘There is a farmstead beyond that hill,’ he said to Eadulf. ‘Perhaps the farmer is burning his fields. It’s that time of year.’

Eadulf vaguely knew that some farmers burned corn stubble in their fields on alternate years to ensure more fertile ground. It was a practice that, not being a farmer, he did not really understand.

‘Why are you sure it is not a forest fire?’ he enquired.

Bleidbara grinned. ‘When you have lived in a forest you begin to develop a feeling, an instinct, and you also develop your eyes for such things.’

They found a small fork in the track that meandered off to the right and ascended a sloping area of ground. Boric was still ahead of them. The trees began to thin a little and suddenly they saw him halt his horse at the top of the rise. He did not turn round but held up his hand as if to stay their advance.

They came up carefully behind him and halted.

Some cultivated fields stretched before them, leading down to a stream, which ran snake-like through their middle. But it was not these that were on fire. On the far side of the fields were what seemed to have been a log-built farmhouse and some outbuildings. It was these that were on fire.

A group of people were milling about, some trying to form a human chain to the stream, along which they passed pails of water in a fruitless attempt to douse the flames. Some bodies were laid out nearby.

Eadulf tried to focus on the scene to discern its cause.

There was a sudden shout of warning from the people below. One of them was pointing up the hill towards them. Some grabbed for weapons. It was clear that their group had been spotted and identified as a potential threat.

Bleidbara began to ride slowly forward while Eadulf and the others followed a short distance behind.

As they grew close, Eadulf saw that those trying to put out the flames were reforming in defensive positions. They were those same sturdy farmers who had gathered to attack the abbey on the previous day. He could tell by their clothing and curious agricultural weaponry. He recognised the small man, what was his name? Coric! Coric — the friend of Barbatil, the father of the murdered Argantken.

They were halfway across the field when Bleidbara halted and called to Coric. It was in retrospect that Bleidbara interpreted the shouted conversation to Eadulf.

‘Coric! It is I, Bleidbara. We are friends!’ he cried.

‘You come under the banner of Brilhag,’ replied the little man. ‘That is no sign of friendship — after this.’ He gestured around him.

‘What do you mean?’

‘A group of your warriors attacked this farmstead, slaughtered old Goustan the farmer and his family and set fire to it. How should we welcome you as friends?’

‘No warriors of mine did this, Coric. We have come from Brilhag in search of the brigands who ambushed Queen Riwanon this morning. Two of her warriors were slain, and her maid.’

Coric stood uncertainly. ‘How can we know that you tell the truth?’

‘I am Bleidbara. I grew up among you. My word is my honour.’

‘I cannot accept the word of anyone who serves Brilhag after this day. Warriors have attacked us poor farmers too many times. But today, today marks an end of it. We will fight back. So I warn you, Bleidbara, stay back!’

‘They may be using the banner of Brilhag, but that does not mean they are of Brilhag,’ responded the warrior.

‘So you say. We will choose our own counsel.’

Bleidbara was losing patience. ‘Just tell us what happened and which way these raiders have gone?’

There was a pause, then Coric’s surly voice answered, ‘We saw smoke rising and, as several of our farmsteads had been attacked before, we came in a body to see what was happening. From the rise there, we saw half-a-dozen men loading booty on their horses. The cabin was already blazing. Old Goustan was still alive, we saw him arguing with the looters. Then one of them, perhaps the leader, simply drew his sword and cut him down. There was a scream and we saw Goustan’s wife and child run from behind one of the huts. They did not reach him. Their bodies lie there.’

Again Coric gestured.

‘We gave a shout of anger and all of us, as one man, raised what weapons we could and began to run down the hill. The attackers saw us. They had bows and might have cut down some of us. But their leader was wise, for he simply signalled his men to mount and they went riding away.’

‘How long ago was this?’ demanded Bleidbara sharply.

‘An hour — perhaps more. The blaze was so strong here that we have not been able to quench it.’

‘And which way did the attackers go?’

Coric pointed north but slightly to the east of the direction from which they had come.

‘Once more, I assure you that this is no deed of Brilhag,’ cried Bleidbara. ‘I am going in pursuit of these raiders and will prove to you and your people that I am right.’

Coric and his fellows said nothing. Neither did they drop their weapons nor did they raise them. They stood unsmiling as Bleidbara turned his horse and signalled to his men to follow. As they rode quickly back across the hill in the direction Coric had indicated, Bleidbara quickly recounted the conversation to Eadulf.

‘Then these must be the same men who attacked Riwanon,’ Eadulf said unnecessarily. ‘Where would they be heading to in this direction?’

‘This way is the oratory.’

‘Could they have landed from this ship you call Koulm ar Maro ?’

‘That is exactly what I fear,’ agreed Bleidbara. ‘They have such a head start on us that they may vanish out onto the waters of Morbihan again.’

‘But they are on horseback,’ objected Eadulf.

‘Ah,’ Bleidbara smiled brightly, ‘that is true. I was almost forgetting. They must keep their horses somewhere if they are conducting raids like this.’

It seemed little time passed before they came within sight of the small stone oratory.

Immediately Bleidbara halted the band and, without any words being exchanged, Boric slid from his horse and moved quickly forward. It was obvious to Eadulf that these men had worked together before and did not have to waste time exchanging orders.

The first task was to ensure that no one was in hiding in or around the oratory, and when all was clear, Boric bent to the ground checking the area around the grey stone building. Then he moved towards the nearby shoreline and down to the embankment. While Eadulf was impatient, Bleidbara sat leaning forward, resting on the pommel of his saddle. It was almost as if he was nodding in a doze but the half-shut eyes were still bright, watchful and wary of their surroundings.

Boric reappeared and waved them forward.

As they dismounted, he spoke rapidly to Bleidbara.

‘Several horses and riders have been here. It’s difficult to tell how many. The most recent group halted and some men dismounted. Four riders took the riderless horses and moved on northwards.’

‘How can you possibly know that?’ wondered Eadulf.