The Dove of Death (20 page)

Fidelma compressed her lips for a moment.

‘Yes. That is one thing that I cannot explain at the moment,’ she agreed.

Eadulf twisted round to glance at the island ahead of them. When he had viewed it from the tower at Brilhag, it appeared
small and compact. Now it grew larger as they approached it. There seemed no sign of the other craft that Fidelma had presumed Iuna and Iarnbud were using. Indeed, they had probably made landfall on the island already. Eadulf hoped that Fidelma had thought matters through because, as soon as they approached the island, they would surely be spotted and if she were right, then they would have no excuse about disguising their suspicions of the guilt of the children of the Lord of Brilhag.

The island’s southern end rose, inhospitable. Eadulf knew from his observation from the tower that to the east was a long sloping sandy shore while to the west there was a small strip of sand. Both provided easy landing-places, but either would be easily observable.

‘Where are you going to land?’ he asked nervously.

It was something that had just begun to bother Fidelma. She did not want to land observed, if possible. She actually hoped their crossing from the peninsula had not been seen or, at least, mistaken as a normal fisherman crossing the waters. But to land on either beach was to invite inspection from the inhabitants of the fortified dwelling on the island.

‘The one place that won’t be watched is the southern end of the island,’ she said at last. ‘We could bring the boat in unobserved under the high banks there and climb up to the treeline. Then we could see the lie of the land before committing ourselves.’

Eadulf’s jaw tightened as he viewed the dark, high shoreline. ‘Land
there
?’

‘It is not that forbidding,’ replied Fidelma calmly.

‘There’s white water there. Rocks.’

‘Get into the bow and tell me if I come near anything. Use one of the oars to stand us off.’

Muttering under his breath, he turned and scrambled forward, dragging an oar with him.

They were closing fast – too fast, thought Eadulf.

‘Left!’ he shouted, waving his hand in that direction. ‘Keep left!’

They were still a long way from the stony seashore when he realised that not only did the white water herald rocks poking above the sea, but there were also shadows of hidden rocks beneath the dark waters.

‘It’s too dangerous!’ he protested. ‘We should turn back.’

Even as he spoke he could see they had come in too close among these underwater rocks to turn with any degree of safety. There was a tidal current driving them towards the shore.

‘Right!’ he suddenly screamed. ‘Bear right!’

He felt the boat begin to respond.

Thoughts raced through his mind. They were going too fast. They ought to take down the sail. But he was needed as lookout to shout warnings of the rocks, and Fidelma was needed at the tiller. It was too late to take the sail down and no one to do so anyway. And now they could not turn out of danger. There was still 100 metres to go before they reached the shore. It was just a matter of time when…

The impact knocked Eadulf forward over the bows and into the water. He felt his head bang against a rock and, for a moment, he was confused and dizzy. For a split second, before he was thus precipitated, he had been conscious of a tearing sound, and had an image in his mind’s eye of a sharp rock ripping into the wooden planking of the boat. Then he was struggling in the water, struggling for his life for the second time in recent days. The currents and eddies among the rocks were strong and pulled him this way and that. He reached out, trying to grasp a rock but they were all covered with slimy weeds and he could get no purchase. The waves smashing down from the swirling currents drove the breath from his body, and when he opened
his mouth to inhale, seawater gushed into it and he swallowed automatically. He was choking. He had no breath and then suddenly everything was black. He felt a brief moment of regret; regret that life had to end in such a fashion.

‘I am sorry…I am sorry…I am sorry…’

Fidelma’s voice echoed as if in a cave far, far away. Eadulf found himself fighting against the black oppressive current, swimming badly upwards towards the light and suddenly…His eyes snapped open. Fidelma was leaning over him, her hair and clothing soaked, water streaming down her face – mingling, it seemed, with tears. Her expression was tragic.

He started to cough and spit out seawater. The taste in his mouth was vile.

‘I am sorry.’ Her voice came again.

He sank back. ‘It seems that we are making a habit of trying to drown one another,’ he managed to croak, unable to control the timbre of his voice.

Her face above him broke into a smile of relief.

‘Eadulf!’ was all she said, and was unable to speak further for emotion.

Eadulf became aware that he was lying on grassy ground. The crash of waves came at a distance. He was soaked through. His head ached and his throat was sore. The realisation came to him gradually that he must have been hauled from the water and carried to this spot. He looked at Fidelma and was about to form a question when he observed the shadows behind her.
He tried to focus on them and after a moment they moulded into two grim-faced warriors whose swords, however, were sheathed.

Fidelma saw his glance.

‘We were seen – these men came down to the shore and managed to save us.’

He became aware of another man kneeling by his head and proffering a goatskin water bag.

‘Take a sip, swirl it round your mouth and then spit it out,’ the man instructed. ‘You have swallowed much seawater and ’tis better not to digest any more water until your mouth has been cleansed.’

Eadulf tried to raise himself on one elbow but his head started to swim.

‘Better if I could spew it forth,’ he replied, remembering the advice of the physicians under whom he had trained.

‘We caused you to vomit on the seashore, otherwise…’ The man did not finish.

Obediently Eadulf took a sip, tasting the cool fresh water in his mouth. It was hard not to swallow but he rinsed his mouth and spat the water out again.

The man took the goatskin bag and put back the stopper. Then he signalled to his men. They lifted Eadulf like a child between them.

‘It is not far to my lady Trifina’s dwelling,’ the man said. ‘Do you require assistance, lady?’ This last enquiry was addressed to Fidelma.

Eadulf did not hear her answer but it must have been negative.

‘It was lucky for you that we were at the southern point of the island,’ the man said, as they began to move forward. Eadulf had the impression that he was young and swarthy. He was feeling light-headed again and wanted more than anything to close his eyes and sleep. However, he struggled to keep his
senses attuned as he remembered their circumstances and realised that they might soon be in trouble.

‘Is the lady Trifina in residence?’ he heard Fidelma ask innocently.

‘She is often at this island, which she regards as her home more than at her father’s residence. Do you know the lady Trifina then?’

‘We have met.’ Fidelma’s voice was solemn.

It seemed that Eadulf must have passed out then, for when he came to, he was inside a building and could feel the warmth and hear the crackle of a fire. A young man was bending over him and prodding him with firm but gentle fingers. Eadulf felt nauseous and his headache had not improved. He blinked and groaned but his eyelids felt like lead.

‘He will be all right after a short rest, lady,’ the young man said to someone behind him. He spoke in Latin.

‘What on earth has happened?’ The voice was familiar and it took him a moment or two before he identified it as that of Trifina.

‘We were coming to pay a call on you and mistook a safe landing-place,’ he heard Fidelma reply. Even through the fog of his mind, it did not sound convincing. ‘We struck a submerged rock and our boat broke up. It was fortunate for us that these men saw the incident from the shore and effected a rescue. They saved our lives.’

‘They will be rewarded,’ responded Trifina distantly. ‘But how did those at Brilhag let you come out here alone? Macliau knows how dangerous the waters around these islands can be, unless one has knowledge. I do not understand it.’

‘Your brother is away hunting,’ Fidelma said.

Trifina gave an exclamation of surprise.

‘He left you and…?’ Then her tone became brisk. ‘But we must get you dry, into warm clothes, and it looks as though
your companion stands in need of some attention. Heraclius, my physician, will take care of him. If only Iuna were here,’ she added absently.

‘Iuna is not here?’ Fidelma’s ejaculation of surprise was apparent but then it seemed she controlled her astonishment. ‘I thought I had heard that Iuna was coming to join you here,’ she added.

‘Indeed not,’ responded Trifina. ‘Why should she? I left her to attend to your wants at Brilhag.’

‘I thought that she might have come bearing the news.’ Was Fidelma searching for an excuse?

‘News?’ Trifina’s tone was perplexed. ‘What news?’

‘Firstly, that Riwanon has arrived at Brilhag with her entourage.’

‘Riwanon!’ The voice had the tone of surprise but there was something not quite right to Fidelma’s ears. A note of falseness. ‘Then are you saying that King Alain and my father are at Brilhag?’

‘They have not arrived yet,’ Fidelma rejoined. ‘Riwanon had left them hunting and came on by herself.’

‘Then it is a good thing that Iuna is at my father’s fortress. And my brother has decided to go hunting at this moment? For shame! No one there to welcome the Queen.’

‘There is even more news, lady,’ Fidelma said. She cleared her throat. ‘Unwelcome news, I regret. Abbot Maelcar of the community of Gildas arrived at Brilhag…and was murdered last night, or rather, early this morning.’

There was a long silence.

‘Are you jesting?’ demanded Trifina. Yet again there was something unconvincing about her tone as though she were affecting surprise rather than truly being surprised.

‘I do not jest about murder, lady,’ Fidelma replied firmly.

‘Let me get this right. You say that Abbot Maelcar was
murdered while staying at my father’s fortress at the same time as Riwanon arrived?’

‘Indeed. It was to bring you these tidings that we came.’

Eadulf presumed that Fidelma considered herself to be merely twisting the facts to suit the moment, rather than telling an outright lie. Even in his befogged state of mind he could almost smile at the logic.

‘We will talk more about this when you are dried and changed,’ Trifina announced abruptly.

Eadulf was aware of instructions being issued but he still could not open his eyes. A great lethargy seemed to overcome him and he slid into a gentle sleep.

Fidelma had followed Trifina’s attendants, who carried Eadulf between them through a light oakwood-panelled corridor then up a broad stairway. They ascended without pausing and went along another corridor to a comfortable chamber where a wood fire was already crackling in the hearth. While Eadulf was being bathed and placed in a warm bed, a female attendant invited Fidelma into a small adjoining chamber where a tub of hot water had also been prepared for her and some dry clothing had been brought. It did not take long before she felt restored to her normal self, and one of the female servants told her that the lady Trifina was now awaiting her with refreshments.

She looked in on Eadulf before she left and saw that he was sleeping fairly comfortably. The young physician, who looked little more than a youth, stood respectfully by the fire.

‘I will stay with him for a while, lady,’ he said. He spoke in excellent Latin but she could not place his accent. ‘The water is out of his lungs but the immersion has disturbed him; also he has a bad graze on the head, and so he desires sleep above all things. I have seen this desire for sleep happen before, when
someone has been resuscitated after near-death by drowning. A rest, and he will be well again. Have no fear.’

‘Trifina says you are a physician.’ Fidelma gave the youth a slow scrutiny.

‘I am qualified in my own land in medical matters, lady.’

‘What is your name?’

‘Heraclius, lady.’

‘I have heard that name before. And surely it is a Greek name?’

For a moment an expression of pride crossed the young man’s features.

‘I was born and educated in Constantinopolis.’

‘Then I leave Eadulf in your hands, Heraclius. Be sure to send for me, if anything is amiss.’

‘Have no worries, lady. He will be well soon.’

Fidelma turned and followed the waiting female attendant along the panelled corridor again to the stairway. The interior of the building was almost entirely of wood, with the exception of a stone tower and lower foundations. There were outer walls of sandstone which surrounded the large two-storey building. It was an impressive place and Fidelma had seen few buildings to compare with it. It was, in many respects, reminiscent of structures she had seen in Rome.

‘This is a magnificent building,’ she commented to the attendant. The girl bobbed nervously.

‘Indeed, lady.’

‘And old?’

‘They say that a Roman governor, sent to rule over the Veneti many years ago, had it built as a summer palace.’

Fidelma congratulated herself. So that explained the similarity that she had felt between this villa and some of the buildings she had seen in Rome. However, Roman residences were not usually built with second storeys and watchtowers, so she
presumed that much had been added to the building over the years. From the bottom of the stairway, the attendant led her along a corridor and through a door which entered on a typical Roman-style inner courtyard with what might once have been a fountain but which no longer gushed water. On the far side of this courtyard, the attendant opened a carved oak door and ushered Fidelma inside.

Trifina received her in a large chamber. A fire was blazing in the hearth at the far end and oak chairs were set on either side. There was a similarly ornate table laid with various dishes and jugs, and Trifina waved towards it.

‘There is mulled wine or soup to choose from. Take what you will,’ she invited. ‘Something warm will help you recover from your ordeal.’

Fidelma took a goblet of mulled wine and went to the seat by the fire indicated by Trifina.

The daughter of the
mac’htiern
of Brilhag stretched herself in the second comfortable chair and examined Fidelma carefully from under lowered lids.

‘You did not really make your journey here just to bring me news, did you?’ she opened. It was not said as an accusation but a confident statement seeking an expected confirmation.

Fidelma decided to be honest.

‘Not entirely,’ she admitted. ‘Although it is true that Riwanon has arrived and that Macliau is not at Brilhag. It is also true that Abbot Maelcar has been murdered.’

Trifina continued her close scrutiny but without expression,

‘But that is not what brought you on your foolhardy voyage here, is it? Let us start, though, with the death of the Abbot. Who murdered him – and why?’

‘We do not know. At the moment, the only suspect seems to be Iuna.’

Trifina’s eyes widened in surprise.

‘Iuna? Abbot Maelcar was not the friendliest of men and his attitude certainly made him many enemies locally. However, I can’t believe…Iuna. Why?’

‘I found her fleeing from Abbot Maelcar’s bedchamber. She said that she had discovered the body a moment before. I do not think she told me the entire truth. Then I saw her leaving the fortress with Iarnbud in a small sailing boat. They were heading in this direction. Hence, Eadulf and I followed.’

At this, Trifina’s expression turned to one of incredulity. ‘Iarnbud and Iuna? You are mistaken.’

‘I am not. Abbot Maelcar said that he had come to Brilhag in answer to a plea, which was purportedly sent by the King. But it was clear, at once, that no such message came from the King or your father, neither of whom had reached Brilhag at the time.’

‘What are you saying?’

‘I think Abbot Maelcar was purposely lured to Brilhag to meet his killer. The message was, as Riwanon said, a false one.’

Trifina’s eyes narrowed slightly.

‘And so you say that Iuna was the killer and somehow acting in concert with Iarnbud? I say you are mistaken. I know them both and well.’

‘Someone who kills is always known by someone else,’ Fidelma pointed out. ‘Just how long has Iuna served you?’

Trifina considered the question a moment before she decided to answer.

‘She came to be fostered by my father when she was seven years old.’

‘Fostered?’ The girl had used the Latin term
curare
. Fidelma wondered if it were the same system as the one that prevailed in her own land; the system called
altramm
which was so important to the society and the rearing of children. For when a child was seven years old, he or she could be sent to a family
for education and rearing. The fosterage could be
altramm serce
, for affection, to families of equal rank in which no fee was paid. There was a second, less usual form, and that was fosterage for a fee. In both cases the foster family had to maintain the child according to the rank in which it was born. This was done under legal contract.

Fidelma tried to outline this to Trifina who, to her surprise, confirmed a fairly similar method among her people.

‘A friend of my father in Brekilien who was also a distant relative sent Iuna to us. He was a noble who soon after lost his life defending the eastern borders against the Franks. Iuna’s mother was killed at the same time. So we became her family.’

‘Iuna has been raised as one of your family? Yet she says she is the house stewardess and acts as your servant.’

Trifina shrugged in a dismissive fashion.

‘She can choose whatever title she is pleased to call herself. Her family being annihilated in a Frankish raid, she has remained with us. We continue to hold her in the affection of our family but she has decided to fulfil the position of…’ she paused, trying to think of a correct word ‘…
quae res domesticas dispensat
.’