The Dove of Death

Chapter Seventeen

When Fidelma turned to speak to the others, she found Bleidbara and Eadulf already running down the grassy knoll which led to the shoreline below.

By the time they all reached the spot, one of Bleidbara’s men was approaching, hurrying from the other direction. He, too, had seen the boat and its occupant.

Iarnbud lay face down in the shallows where he had fallen from the boat, trying to drag himself up above the tidemark. The shaft of an arrow was still embedded in him, close to his spine.

Bleidbara and his companion waded into the shallows, reached forward and dragged the bretat up beyond the clawing waves.

Iarnbud let out a pitiful groan.

‘Mercy! He still lives,’ muttered Eadulf, bending down to the man. But after examining the wounds, he rose and shook his head at his companions. The man was beyond help.

Iarnbud opened his glazing eyes, peered round and tried to focus on Bleidbara. His mouth moved, but all that came from it was a dry rasping cough and a trickle of blood.

‘What is it, Iarnbud?’ Bleidbara encouraged softly.

The man spoke incoherently. They could discern the name ‘Heraclius’ repeated several times clearly, but the rest they could not understand.

‘He wants the apothecary,’ said Bleidbara. ‘He asks for Heraclius.’

Then, with an apparent summoning of strength, Iarnbud grabbed hold of Bleidbara’s shirt and dragged his head nearer. Of the words that poured forth from the thin, bloodstained lips, all they could distinguish were ‘Koulm ar Maro’.

‘The ship?’ demanded Fidelma quickly. ‘What does he say about it?’

The warrior bent his ear to the man’s lips. They moved feebly, whispering softly and then, without warning, in the middle of a word, Iarnbud’s head fell back and he was dead.

Bleidbara gazed down at him for a long time and then exhaled softly.

‘Well, he won’t need Heraclius now.’

‘What is it?’ Fidelma asked urgently. ‘What did he say?’

Bleidbara lowered the dead man’s shoulders to the ground and looked at them. His expression seemed torn between sorrow and triumph.

‘He found the ship, the Koulm ar Maro. He managed to overhear their plans. Apparently, those plans will come to fruition tomorrow.’

‘Tomorrow? What happens then?’ Fidelma wanted to know.

‘The Koulm ar Maro is due to sail out into the Big Sea, using the morning tide. It will then make a rendezvous off the coast near the abbey, by which time the success of their plan will be complete.’

‘I don’t understand,’ Eadulf said.

Bleidbara shrugged. ‘That’s all he said. Apart from something about food and Heraclius, which made no sense at all.’

‘Trifina said that Iarnbud was working for both of you. Is that right?’

Bleidbara nodded, saying, ‘He was loyal to the family of Brilhag. During these last few weeks, he travelled around, trying to pick up news of this Koulm ar Maro. Now he’s given his life for the little news that he could garner for us.’

‘If only he could have told us what the completion of their plan meant,’ muttered Eadulf. Suddenly noticing that the small boat was drifting, he waded into the sea to grab hold of the gunwale and draw it back up on shore. As he did so, he glanced inside and let out an exclamation.

‘Quickly! I thought it was just a pile of cloth, a discarded sail there — but look!’

Bleidbara tore aside the canvas.

The still figure of Iuna lay there. Her face was white and she lay very still, as if in death.

Bleidbara reached into the boat and, with ease, the tall warrior lifted the body of the girl in his arms. He walked the few paces up the beach and laid her gently on the ground beyond the waves.

Eadulf at once knelt to examine her.

‘Still alive,’ he said. ‘Still alive, but unconscious and very cold.’

He explored the girl’s skull with his fingertips, and then he bent as if to smell her breath. ‘She has not been hit on the head, but from the blue of the lips, I think she has taken a poison of some kind. I can smell it on her breath. But I’m afraid such a poison is beyond my powers to diagnose. We do need Heraclius, after all.’

Bleidbara swore softly under his breath and then, turning to his companion, issued a quick order. The man trotted away.

They stood anxiously round the unconscious form of Iuna, not knowing what to do, until the young apothecary arrived and made a swift examination.

‘She has been poisoned,’ Eadulf offered, feeling helpless. ‘But I do not know with what substance.’

‘You are right, Brother Eadulf,’ Heraclius said, peering at the girl’s blue lips. ‘She has been poisoned. I believe that she has eaten the Death Cap fungi.’ The seriousness of the situation showed in his features.

‘Well? Can you help her?’ pressed Fidelma.

‘I cannot hold out any great chance of recovery. It depends when she ingested the poison. It is a potent one, usually fatal; just one of the fungi is enough to ensure that a full-grown man can suffer a painful death. It is usually terminal in two days.’

‘You mean there is no antidote?’ Fidelma said, shocked.

‘No full antidote for the toxins. However, we will take her into the villa and give her an extract made from the ripe seeds of the Milk Thistle. There is hope, but only if she has not long ingested these toxins. If she is going to survive then we will know by tomorrow morning.’

He signalled to Bleidbara’s man to lift the girl and carry her up to the villa. Glancing at the body of Iarnbud, he said, ‘I must tend to the living and leave the dead,’ and turned after the warrior carrying the girl in his arms.

‘I didn’t warm to the man overmuch,’ sighed Eadulf, ‘but we can’t let him give his life in vain.’

‘Well, there is only one thing for me to do,’ Bleidbara said determinedly. ‘I will attempt to intercept the Koulm ar Maro as it makes a run for the Big Sea at dawn tomorrow.’

‘How will you do that?’ Fidelma asked.

‘The Morvran stands ready. We will sail to the channel and await the Koulm ar Maro there. She has to pass through that narrow channel at the right time, when the tide is running from the Morbihan. My crew are men who are descended from the Veneti. We come from generations of sea-fighters.’ His voice was rock-steady. ‘We will be ready for them.’

‘You might call this the Little Sea, Bleidbara, but it is still large enough to lose a ship in, and all these islands are easy hiding-places,’ Eadulf commented.

‘I am familiar with these waters, friend. Now I know where the raider is going to be and what it intends to do, I can deal with the Koulm ar Maro.’

‘I want to come with you,’ Eadulf announced firmly, without looking at Fidelma. The truth was that his prime concern was that she might insist on accompanying Bleidbara on the Morvran herself. If there was to be a sea battle, then he determined that she should be out of harm’s way. ‘I would be useful if any of the Barnacle Goose survivors are still prisoners with them,’ he added, as if to find an excuse. ‘I would be able to recognise them.’

Bleidbara was suddenly in a good humour. As a warrior, he understood action and was happy now that he had something to do that he could understand.

‘You have courage, Eadulf,’ he praised him. ‘For a religious, you seem to have no qualms about throwing yourself into conflict.’

‘If it means tracking down these murderers, then I can bear such discomfort,’ Eadulf replied.

Fidelma reached out her hand and touched Eadulf on his arm, looking at him in silent approval. She understood why he had volunteered, and, if the truth were known, she felt he was right. Her place was to return to Brilhag, for that was where she knew she had to be, to resolve this mystery.

‘I’ll await your return at Brilhag,’ she told him.’

‘We will do our best to finally smoke out this evil among us,’ Bleidbara said, and glanced at the sky. The journey to Govihan and the search of the island had taken them some time. It was well into the afternoon now. ‘We have a long time to wait until dawn tomorrow. Let us return to the villa and see how Heraclius is proceeding. I will have need for him on board when we encounter the Koulm ar Maro. He will have to instruct someone who can nurse Iuna.’

Fidelma regarded him with surprise but he did not elucidate.

‘There seems little to do until you sail out to intercept the Koulm ar Maro now. Even if Iuna recovers, she will not be able to tell us what happened for a while,’ she said. ‘One thing is certain, she was steward to the household at Brilhag and knowledgeable about all foods. She would not have eaten Death Cap fungi in mistake for edible fungi. She was deliberately poisoned.’ She paused. ‘If my suspicion is correct, Brilhag is where we will find an answer to this mystery of the Koulm ar Maro. But you must bring me the final piece of this puzzle.’

‘You know who is behind these raids?’ Bleidbara asked.

‘I now suspect who is behind them and why. I need only one more piece to settle the resolution. But before I do so, it would be good to know that the Barnacle Goose is safe with the survivors of the crew and, of course, that Trifina is with them.’

Eadulf was astonished at her confidence.

‘If you already know who is behind the Koulm ar Maro and these raids and killings, don’t you feel that you should share this knowledge?’ he asked.

‘I said that I suspect…suspicion, even based on circumstantial evidence, is not enough for an accusation to be proven.’

‘Even so, a shared knowledge is a danger halved.’

‘True, but a single whisper, or a glance might betray our thoughts, Eadulf, and if they are betrayed by as much as the blink of an eye, I may lose my quarry.’

‘We can return you to Brilhag on the Morvran, lady,’ Bleidbara offered. ‘We will drop you off there tonight and then move on to an anchorage I know of, where we can wait until the hour before dawn. Then we can sail for the interception point to engage the raiders as they attempt to catch the tide out of Morbihan.’

‘Excellent,’ she approved. ‘I feel things are drawing towards a conclusion.’

Dusk had fallen when the Morvran finally anchored in the bay under the headland on which the fortress of Brilhag rose. It had taken longer than they expected because Bleidbara had insisted on loading a number of curious-looking sections of wood, set into frames with ropes and wheels. Neither Fidelma nor Eadulf had ever seen such wooden constructions as were hoisted onto the deck, and had no idea what they were. Canvas sheeting covered them as they were set up in the bows of the vessel. Bleidbara had claimed that the equipment was necessary to his task, and that the presence of Heraclius was essential. Fidelma took the view that Bleidbara knew his business and so did not bother him or Heraclius with unnecessary questions. The young apothecary from Constantinopolis supervised the loading, paying particular care to a sealed wooden case as it was cautiously taken into the hold. Bleidbara saw their curiosity but did not explain.

Heraclius reported that Iuna had been given the treatment, but only the next twelve hours would show whether she would respond to it. He had left her in the care of one of the female servants at the villa, together with explicit instructions on how she should be treated. At Fidelma’s insistence, a warrior was left with them for protection.

Now, as they dropped anchor before Brilhag, Bleidbara came to see Fidelma off in one of the ship’s boats.

‘We shall leave and anchor further down the coast so as to be ready just before dawn,’ he said gravely. ‘If all goes well, you will see our return here sometime tomorrow.’

‘I’ll be waiting,’ smiled Fidelma. ‘I wish you luck.’

‘We all need luck, lady. These people, whoever they are, will be eager to destroy any that are in their way. If you need help, seek out Boric. He is a good man to have at your side in time of danger. Tell him that I have placed him under your orders.’

Fidelma turned to Eadulf. ‘You look after yourself,’ she instructed softly. Then she climbed over the side into the boat. She was ferried to the shore by one of the ship’s company who left her on the quay and immediately rowed back to rejoin the Morvran.

Fidelma stood for a moment looking at the disappearing boat, heading out to the dark shape of Bleidbara’s ship. Then she turned up the pathway that led to the fortress, trying to adjust her vision to the darkness. She wished that she had had the foresight to bring a lamp but, almost as she thought it, the moon suddenly appeared from the bank of clouds and cast its blue glow over the area, revealing the man standing blocking the path a few paces in front of her.

Even with the moonlight, she could not make out any more than a few details. He was holding a shield, and a sword hung at his side. He challenged her in Breton and she guessed rather than knew the meaning of his words.

When she responded, assuming he was one of Boric’s guards, he moved forward and asked a further question, and this time she could not guess at its meaning.

‘Loquerisne linguam latinam?’ she asked hopefully,

The man shook his head, turned and shouted something. A moment later another man hurried down the path, surefooted in the darkness. The first man stiffened and spoke rapidly to him.

‘Who are you?’ demanded the second warrior in Latin.

Fidelma frowned. ‘Fidelma of Hibernia,’ she replied. This was probably the best form of announcing herself in a way that would be understood. ‘Where is Boric?’

The man did not answer, but his eyes focused on the darkness behind her and widened a little. He obviously saw the outline of the Morvran.

‘What ship is that?’ he demanded before she could speak again.

‘It is the Morvran, commanded by Bleidbara of-’

The man was already turning and shouting orders. Fidelma had an uneasy feeling.

‘Who are you?’ she asked. ‘Where is Boric, who commands the guard here?’

‘You will precede me to the fortress,’ snapped the man, his hand resting lightly on his sword.

With a sinking heart she suddenly realised that these were not the guards that had been left behind by Bleidbara. And now there was no way to warn Bleidbara. With her thoughts racing, she was forced to walk on, the warrior two paces behind her, his hand ready on his sword. She followed the path up to the gate in the outer wall and through the door that eventually led into the kitchen area of the fortress. Guards were placed at all the entrances.

Fidelma asked herself how the fortress of Brilhag had managed to fall into the hands of these men. They were well-clothed, well-armed and seemed highly disciplined. They were not as she had imagined the brigands of the Koulm ar Maro.

She was pushed firmly through the kitchens and finally into the familiar great hall.

Two men were standing before the fire, their features distorted by the flickering light. They looked up in surprise as Fidelma was ushered roughly into the room.

One of them — a tall, well-built man of over fifty, with long reddish hair and a beard, whose features seemed quite pleasant and handsome, took a step forward. His face seemed oddly familiar to Fidelma. His eyes were pale and she was not sure whether they were blue or grey. He was richly attired and wore a golden necklet and armbands.

‘Who are you, lady?’ he began.

Fidelma, angry with herself at being thus caught, replied angrily, ‘Who are you? And by what right do your men hold me prisoner?’

The man’s eyes widened in surprise for a moment at her fearless attitude. His companion, an elderly man with grey hair, chuckled as if witnessing a joke.

‘Lady,’ replied the tall man solemnly, ‘I am called Alain of Domnonia and am King of the Bretons. By this right, do I do all things. And now, please answer me: who are you?’

Another figure emerged from the shadows at the end of the hall, saying, ‘It is the stranger I told you of, Father. She is Fidelma of Hibernia.’

King Alain took a few rapid paces towards Fidelma with hands outstretched.

‘Fidelma of Hibernia — welcome! Riwanon and Budic have told me all about you, and how you came to be here. So I welcome you, but at the same time ask you to accept my sorrow for the suffering that you have been put through. Your Cousin Bressal had been an honoured guest at my court when we agreed a treaty between my people and your brother, the King of Muman. It grieves my heart to hear of his death and your distress. Where is your companion, Eadulf the Saxon?’

Instead of replying, Fidelma glanced towards Budic, who had perched himself with a grin on the table, with one leg swinging. It seemed his favourite posture. Then her eyes turned to the elderly man by the fire. His features, too, seemed familiar. Alain noticed her examination and smiled.

‘I crave your indulgence for not making the introduction. This is the mac’htiern of Brilhag, Lord Canao.’

The elderly man came forward, and Fidelma now realised why his features were familiar. There was the reflection of Macliau and of Trifina on them. Whereas Macliau’s features were weak, those of Canao, his father, were strong and held a quality of wisdom and maturity that seemed lacking in his son.

The lord of Brilhag held out his hand.

‘I have heard how you saved my son from the mob that would have killed him, and how you set off to find my missing daughter. What news of her?’

‘Alas, we have not found her,’ admitted Fidelma. ‘But we have some knowledge which might lead us to her.’

The warrior who had accompanied her now broke into a quick speech to the King. King Alain turned to Fidelma: ‘The captain of my guard says there is a ship in the inlet below and he is worried for our safety.’

‘You need not worry. The ship is the Morvran. Bleidbara is the commander of it. I have just landed from her. My companion Eadulf is still on board and they expect to continue the search for Lord Canao’s daughter at dawn. I also hope that they will be led to the survivors of the Barnacle Goose.’

Lord Canao nodded slowly in approval.

‘Bleidbara is a good man. That’s why I appointed him commander of my warriors. I am content, if he is in command still.’

Budic rose from his perch, saying, ‘You must tell us all the details, lady. But I would like to be in at the kill, to take revenge for the deaths that have taken place here. I will get a man to row me out to the Morvran.’

King Alain glanced at the young man and held up his hand to stay him. ‘Let us rather talk of the visitation of justice, my son, than of revenge.’

‘Budic of Domnonia,’ Fidelma whispered, gazing at the young man. ‘Then he is the son of your first wife who died from the Yellow Plague?’

A pained expression crossed the King’s features.

‘You are well informed, lady. Budic is my only offspring. His mother was my great companion and partner. I thought that I would never survive the grief when she died of the Yellow Plague. Thanks be to God, I found solace with Riwanon. It is beyond man’s expectation to find two great loves in one lifetime. But I have been truly blessed.’

‘With your permission, father, I will join Bleidbara,’ the young warrior requested.

King Alain shook his head. ‘I need you here, Budic. Bleidbara and his men are capable enough. I must have my guard commander at my side.’

Budic looked unhappy, but then acknowledged his father’s wish. King Alain spoke to Fidelma’s escort and the warrior saluted and left. The King turned back to her with a smile.

‘I have told him not to interfere with the Morvran.’

‘So, tell us, Fidelma, what is the plan of Bleidbara?’ Budic wanted to know.

Until her suspicions were confirmed, Fidelma felt it was best to say as little as possible. She chose her words carefully.

‘Bleidbara believes he knows where the raider, the Koulm ar Maro, might be. I am not sure where, as I do not know these waters you call the Morbihan. I believe it might be some eastern islet.’ She was deliberately misleading them.

‘Well, let us provide you with refreshments,’ announced King Alain. ‘And you may give us an account of your adventures. It sounds as if this will be a story told by our bards for many years.’

‘I would do so with pleasure, Alain. But the saga is not ended and I would advise you not to relax your guard too much.’ Fidelma spoke in a serious tone. ‘It is my belief that this mystery is quickly coming to its planned conclusion.’

‘Its planned conclusion?’ King Alain looked perplexed. ‘What do you mean?’

‘All I can say is that I will be able to tell you more tomorrow.’

‘The lady is being dramatic,’ Budic observed cynically. ‘What mystery are we talking of?’

The King held her eyes in a thoughtful gaze.

‘I have no need to ask if you are jesting, Fidelma. The gravity of what you say is in your expression. You suspect some conspiracy here?’

‘I do. I suggest that you should continue to take a special care. As I said, I am hoping that by the end of tomorrow, we shall know enough to present you with all the facts. But tonight, with Lord Canao’s permission — for I know of the proscription against weapons in this house — we should sleep arrectis auribus, with our bedchamber doors locked, and with trustworthy guards outside.’

‘Fidelma!’ At that moment, Riwanon came down the stairs and moved quickly towards her with a smile and both hands held out in welcome.

‘I was so worried for you when you disappeared earlier today. After Ceingar’s death and the disappearance of Trifina and Iuna, why, I was in great agitation. It is good to see you alive and safe. And now that Alain is here, all is well, is that not so?’ Riwanon turned round as if searching for someone. ‘But where are Eadulf and Bleidbara? Did you have any success in finding Trifina and the girl Iuna?’

Fidelma shook her head with a sad expression.

‘No — but we have not given up,’ she replied. ‘We hope to have some news soon. Bleidbara is continuing the search. All we can do is get some rest tonight and await the coming of tomorrow.’

Lord Canao was looking glum.

‘This is a strange homecoming for me. My son, Macliau, is accused of murder. My daughter, Trifina, and my foster-daughter, Iuna, are both missing. Abbot Maelcar and the queen’s maid have been murdered under my roof. My people are now accusing me and mine of untold crimes. God alone knows what conspiracy is underway. I even find that a bretat from Bro-Gernev named Kaourentin has arrived here to judge my son.’

Fidelma was surprised at the news.

‘Brother Metellus told me that it took at least four days to travel to Bro-Gernev and back,’ she said. ‘You mean the bretat is here already?’

‘Apparently, Kaourentin was travelling from Bro-Gernev to Naoned and had arrived by chance at the Abbey of Gildas seeking hospitality,’ replied Canao. ‘Brother Metellus told me that it had been suggested a judge from Bro-Gernev should sit to hear my son’s defence rather than my own bretat. Apparently, the people would not respect a judgement given by the bretat of Brilhag.’

‘Is Brother Metellus here?’ asked Fidelma.

‘He came in company of this man Kaourentin. I would have preferred my bretat, Iarnbud, to be here to advise me.’

Fidelma looked at him levelly for a moment.

‘I regret that Iarnbud is also dead,’ she said. ‘I will explain in a moment.’

‘More deaths? Are we threatened in any way, Fidelma?’ asked King Alain in a shocked voice.

Fidelma could not resist answering with dry humour.

‘I think that we are threatened in every way,’ she replied solemnly. ‘As I said, we must be alert tonight.’

‘But no one would dare break into this fortress.’ Budic’s chuckle was dismissive. ‘We have guards enough.’

‘Perhaps they don’t have to break in,’ replied Fidelma softly.

Riwanon shivered slightly, saying, ‘You frighten me, Fidelma. What do you mean?’

‘I simply mean that we all need to be vigilant, for tomorrow will be an important day.’

‘Tomorrow?’ queried King Alain. ‘You keep saying that. Why tomorrow?’

‘Because that is when this mystery will finally be unravelled.’