Behold a Pale Horse (8 page)

Radoald then took Fidelma on a tour of his fortress and, she had to confess, she was surprised at the wealth of tapestries and paintings, which she learned were from Byzantium. There were statuettes from Ancient Rome and many other decorative items. Radoald took a pride as he showed her these treasures. It seemed to her that the young man was going out of his way to impress her that he was a man of refinement and appreciative of the arts. Indeed, after a little while, he said, ‘When our people, the Longobards, came into this land about a hundred years ago, we were pagans, not having heard the word of Christ. All we knew was conquest and how to govern by the sword. Thankfully, times change.’

The conversation was suddenly interrupted by the entrance of a tall man of striking appearance. His age was almost impossible to discern, since although his hair was snow-white, his features seemed young. His eyes were dark, almost without pupils; his lips thin and unusually red; his nose prominent and thin. From neck to feet he was clad in robes of black, the sleeves wide and loose so that they hid his hands. There was no jewellery as relief to the blackness of his dress.

‘Suidur, this is Fidelma of Hibernia, not only of the Sisterhood but a princess of that land,’ introduced Radoald. ‘This is Suidur, my physician.’

The dark eyes examined Fidelma without emotion. Then the physician raised his left hand and placed it over his heart, making a short bow.

‘Hibernia? You are welcome in our valley, lady. Gisa has told me of your meeting and journey here.’ His voice was dry, without feeling. ‘She tells me that you were once a pupil of old Ruadán of Bobium?’

‘She tells you correctly,’ Fidelma confirmed. ‘I trust Brother Faro is recovering?’

‘Faro is well enough, my lady,’ answered the physician. ‘Thankfully, the wound is clean and there are no signs of infection. Gisa is a good student. I have also treated the wound with herbs and bound it. Apart from soreness, he has no ill effects. Therefore, he may continue his journey to Bobium tomorrow and make a good recovery. But he must move slowly and easily.’

‘Then that is a good outcome.’ Radoald spoke with satisfaction.

The physician was looking around at the people in the hall, as if seeking someone. ‘I heard that Magister Ado is of your party? I do not see him here.’

Radoald answered: ‘Magister Ado begged to be excused for he says he is tired from the journey. He will take some refreshment in his chamber.’

Suidur the Wise turned his dark eyes back to Fidelma. ‘Have you known him long then?’

Fidelma wondered why Suidur asked her exactly the same question that Radoald had asked.

‘I encountered him in Genua and he told me of Bobium and it was mentioned Brother Ruadán was here. I could not leave your country without seeing my old mentor, especially when I heard he was ailing.’

‘You did not know Magister Ado before you met him in Genua?’ Suidur continued to gaze at her thoughtfully.

She was about to respond when the young noble interrupted hurriedly. ‘Apparently she did not know about the
magister
nor of Bobium until she met Magister Ado by chance at the seaport. She was on her way back to Hibernia from Rome. You will forgive us, lady, but we are always curious about visitors in our small community.’ A horn was suddenly blown and Radoald appeared relieved. ‘The meal is prepared. Come, sit with us.’

Only Magister Ado was absent from the meal. Sister Gisa with Brother Faro alongside came to take their places. Fidelma was seated between Radoald and Suidur. The conversation veered between questions about Hibernia and information on the Valley of the Trebbia and the Abbey of Bobium. Radoald seemed intent on keeping the topics light, about the different customs of his people to those of Hibernia; about the local food, the wine and other subjects. Fidelma was not sorry when, at long last, she could excuse herself for the night. Radoald ordered one of his servants to conduct her to a guest chamber.

She was led into the main courtyard by the servant holding high an oil lamp. Only one or two people were still about, and they acknowledged her with a look or a few words of greeting as she walked across the cold flagstones. They ascended stairs into a squat building of several storeys high. Her chamber was small, with one window that gave on to a balcony overlooking an inner courtyard lit by the bright light of a waxing moon. The chamber was furnished with a bed and a table with tallow candles in holders, one of which had already been lit. In a corner was another table with a bowl of water to wash in and a linen cloth. There was also a pitcher of fresh water to drink from with a cup. Her escort left and Fidelma yawned with exhaustion and went to the window. The moon cast an eerie twilight over the Trebbia Valley and a chill wind was rustling its way along the valley trees and undergrowth. It was almost with relief that Fidelma climbed on to the bed and closed her eyes.

Fidelma was not asleep. She had not been able to settle at all in spite of her exhaustion. She had started to turn over in her mind the events of the last few days and began to wonder if she had been right in making the decision to accompany Magister Ado and his companions to Bobium. Perhaps she should have remained in the port of Genua, seeking another ship to continue her journey instead of setting off into the alien countryside.

Even when she had been in Rome she had experienced feelings of longing for Cashel, for the rich green plains, the mountains and dense verdant forests of her homeland. Now, she realised, she felt another longing. She felt a sadness when she had parted from the Saxon monk Eadulf who had been her companion and helper in resolving mysteries at the Abbey of Hilda and later in the Lateran Palace in Rome. She wished he was here now. She wanted someone she could trust, in whom to confide her ideas about the incidents that she had witnessed.

Such were the thoughts that filled her mind as she twisted and turned. It was only the prospect of seeing old Brother Ruadán again that convinced her to go on. How much more isolated must Brother Ruadán feel, being so elderly and so far from home? She felt that she owed a duty to her ageing mentor and teacher. She could bring him some cheer of his native land and friends now that he was nearing the end of his life.

As she lay there, she began to hear the distant sound of people whispering. It encroached on her thoughts. She sat up with a frown of annoyance. It was coming from outside, beyond the open window and balcony that overlooked the small courtyard below. The balcony was only shielded from her room by a thick curtain to keep out the swarming insects, especially the little flies that could bite one during the sultry nights and cause illness.

Fidelma swung off the bed and moved to the curtain, pausing to listen. The sounds made no sense at all and she would have been prepared to ignore things altogether, had she not wondered why people should stand whispering in the middle of the night.

Carefully, she eased the curtain aside and stepped on to the balcony. The night was now dark, for clouds had spread across the sky obscuring the moon. She peered down. The courtyard was in shadows, and it was not until her eyesight grew used to the darkness that she could discern a group of five figures. Three of them were tall, one with white hair, while the other two were short. Of the two shorter figures, one was slight, obviously a woman, and the other, a man, seemed elderly, for he too had white hair, just discernible in the darkness. They were whispering together in a language Fidelma guessed was that of the Longobards. The conversation seemed intense, and as if the man of short stature with white hair was scolding the others. One of the taller men seemed to be protesting.

Well, it was none of her business. She was about to turn back into her chamber and try once more to get some rest before the onward journey when the clouds parted briefly and the bright moon pierced the gloom. It was only for a moment but Fidelma saw the white hair of the tall physician, Suidur. The shorter elderly man and the woman remained in the darkness. She did not see the faces of the others, but their long black robes seemed familiar. Then the woman turned her face so that the moonlight caught it for an instant. Her voice was clear and she suddenly lapsed into Latin.

‘The gold must already be here. That means it will happen soon.’

The short, elderly man snapped something at her.

Fidelma gave a gasp and drew back behind the curtain. Whether it was the sound of her withdrawn breath or just a reaction to the sudden moment of moonlight, there was a pause in the conversation. She waited behind the curtain, unable to breathe for a moment, until she heard the talk resume.

Another voice said something sharply and the conversation continued as before in the Longobard language. She waited until the whispering ceased. The voice she had recognised was that of Sister Gisa. She did not know who the short, elderly man was – but was it just her imagination that they, with Suidur, were in conversation with the same two men who had attacked Magister Ado in Genua? Indeed, the same warriors who had attacked them and wounded Brother Faro as they entered the valley?

‘It seems that we shall have company for the rest of our journey,’ Sister Gisa whispered to her as they were finishing their meal.

‘Oh?’ Fidelma inquired politely.

‘Two farmers are taking goods to trade at the abbey.’

‘Our local hill farmers often take goods to the abbey,’ Radoald intervened, overhearing. ‘You arrived here at a convenient moment. The merchants are already outside. But, after what happened to your party yesterday, I’ll send two of my own men to accompany you.’

Fidelma’s senses were suddenly alert. How convenient for the would-be assassins to travel with them. She could not get the image of the previous night out of her mind. But then she looked at the young, enthusiastic face of Sister Gisa and wondered how the girl could be involved in a conspiracy to murder.

‘Are you well enough to undertake this journey, Brother Faro?’ she asked. It passed through her mind to use the young religieux as an excuse to delay so that she might find out more about whatever was happening. But the young man nodded vigorously.

‘The wound is healing well. I hardly feel it. And the sooner we get to Bobium, the better.’

‘I have already given orders for your horses to be ready. Alas, other matters need my attention,’ Radoald said, ‘otherwise I would gladly offer you my company on the journey.’

Magister Ado seemed content. ‘We shall be safe from here on. Bobium is not far now, Fidelma. We should be able to reach it before midday.’

Fidelma followed the others out into the courtyard and carefully scrutinised those who were to be their companions for the rest of the journey. There were two men with pack mules, and the two warriors. To her relief, none of them appeared to have any features in common with the erstwhile attackers. The two with the pack mules were small, rotund men, looking as she imagined typical farmers might look. The two warriors were of average height. She noticed, with interest, that Lord Radoald had provided Sister Gisa with a horse, but she insisted on leading their mule. There was no sign of Suidur when they bade their farewell to the young Lord of Trebbia.

The small caravan set off without fuss. One warrior rode at the head. Magister Ado and Fidelma came next, then Brother Faro and Sister Gisa with their mule. Behind them were the two merchants and their mules. The second warrior brought up the rear.

For a while, Fidelma rode in silence, her eyes watchful on the surrounding countryside.

‘You seem pensive, Sister,’ Magister Ado finally commented after they had ridden in silence for a while.