The Dove of Death

Chapter Eight

Eadulf came awake with a start. The room was bathed in that cold light that marks the moments after an early-summer sunrise when the sun is still shrouded by cloud. He wondered what had disturbed him and then he heard a movement by the window. Fidelma was sitting there, wrapped in a cloak and staring out to sea. Eadulf eased himself up on the bed.

‘What’s wrong?’ He found himself speaking in a whisper.

Fidelma glanced at him without moving from her perch on the sill.

‘I’ve been sitting here watching since just before dawn. Sometimes, at that hour, people will move about thinking the world is asleep. I was hoping to see the ship and get some explanation for the lights last night.’

‘Is it the same ship?’ queried Eadulf, swinging from the bed.

Fidelma beckoned him. ‘See for yourself.’

Eadulf hastened across the cold boards and stared out. The ship had gone. There was no sign of it.

‘If you were here before dawn, then the ship sailed in the night,’ he gasped. ‘Bleidbara must have moved it immediately after the meal, warned by our conversation. Perhaps we should not have referred to it?’ he added in mild rebuke.

‘I feel that the answer to this mystery is out there — on one of those islands,’ Fidelma continued, ignoring his censure. ‘I can see no sign of the vessel at all.’

‘The banner of a dove flies above this castle,’ contradicted Eadulf. ‘The answer must be here.’

‘I was thinking that if the answer was that simple, then our presence should have concerned our hosts enough to attempt to be rid of us.’

Eadulf shivered a little and tried to put it down to the early-morning chill. He went to put on his sandals before returning to stare out at the seascape before him. There was a faint morning mist rising from the dark outlines of the islands dotting the waters of Morbihan. The sea was flat and calm, glinting now and then as the sun broke through the clouds. Visibility was fair but he could see no movement on the waters.

‘We are not even sure that Bleidbara’s ship is the sea-raider,’ he said reasonably.

‘It would be a coincidence if it were not,’ Fidelma mused. ‘It would explain how the ship’s cat reached the abbey.’ Observing her husband’s hesitation, she went on: ‘Let’s consider this: our ship is attacked and you observe a carving of a dove, which is a strange emblem for a warship to have. It sails off, having taken our ship as a prize. We escape and eventually land here, where we come across the ship’s cat, wandering wild. We find a merchant and his companions attacked, killed and robbed. One of the slain has a torn banner clutched in his hand that also bears the symbol of a dove. We are told that this symbol is the emblem of the lord of Brilhag. We are more or less taken prisoner by his warriors and brought inside this fortress where the same flag of these raiders flies above us. We see a warship anchored in the inlet below which is said to be in the service of this same lord and captained by the commander of his warriors, Bleidbara. There are strange lights along the shore and we are told some ancient legend which is meant to scare us from investigation. What is the logical deduction?’

Eadulf smiled wanly. ‘You have always taught me that there can be more than one answer,’ he pointed out.

A frown of irritation crossed Fidelma’s brow, since she immediately admitted to herself that he was right. The logic was tenuous — and it was only the mystery of how Luchtigern, the cat, had come to the abbey that made her determined to follow that logic.

‘Very well. If there is more than one logical interpretation of these facts, then it is the task of the dálaigh to investigate and discover which is the correct one,’ she said at last.

Eadulf was about to respond when there was a knock on the door. It was the mournful girl who had been in charge of the servants during the night before.

‘I beg your pardon,’ she said, ‘but I heard your voices and wondered whether I can be of assistance to you? I can order the preparation of your breakfast, if you wish.’

Automatically Fidelma replied that they would wash first and come down for breakfast later.

The girl inclined her head and was about to leave the chamber when a thought suddenly occurred to Fidelma.

‘Wait,’ she called. The girl turned expectantly back into the room. ‘What is your function here?’

‘I am the stewardess of this household, in charge of the running of its domestic affairs and of all the household attendants.’

‘You speak excellent Latin,’ Fidelma commented. ‘What is your name?’

‘Iuna, lady.’ A faint smile hovered on the girl’s lips but did not form completely. It was as if she had disciplined her features to remove all emotions from them. ‘You are about to observe how can a mere servant be educated? This is Armorica, lady — although we now call it Little Britain by virtue of the refugees from Britain that have flocked to our shores during recent centuries.’

She seemed to offer it as an explanation. Eadulf remained puzzled and said so, and therefore the girl continued with further explanation.

‘This was part of Gaul, conquered by the Romans, and it became a province of their empire centuries ago. Many of the great families were brought up for generations as bilingual, with Latin as well as their native tongue. You will even find that many of the Britons who came here were also adept in Latin, for Britain, too, was a province of Rome. So many people speak Latin quite naturally and as well as they speak their own language.’

‘Ah,’ smiled Eadulf, ‘then it also explains why your Latin is so different from that which we were taught.’

Fidelma thought she should say something here in case the girl thought he was insulting her command of the language.

‘My land, Hibernia, was never part of the Roman empire, and the Latin we have learned is from the texts, not the colloquial form that you speak as a living language. I have noticed that Iarnbud also speaks a Latin that does not derive from the ancient texts.’

The girl shrugged as if she was uninterested. However, Fidelma saw a glimmer of suspicion in her eyes.

‘How long have you been in service here?’ she asked.

‘Most of my life,’ the girl replied shortly. ‘Now if there is anything you desire…?’

‘What are your bathing customs here?’ Fidelma attempted to mollify her. ‘We did not bathe last night and I should have asked but neglected to do so.’

‘You have only to express your wishes, lady,’ replied the girl. ‘They will be fulfilled.’

As Eadulf knew, the people of Fidelma’s land bathed daily, generally in the evening when, before the main meal, they had a full body wash in hot water. It was a custom Eadulf still found slightly alien, for he had grown up when a bath, apart from a swim in a local river, was very infrequent. Baths were attended with perfumes and soap called sléic. In the morning, it was the custom to wash only the face and hands and often in cold water. So Fidelma passed on her wants to the girl and was assured that bowls of water would be brought to them immediately, together with any toilet articles that might be wanted.

When they eventually came down into the great hall for breakfast, they found no one else there except the girl, luna, preparing the table.

‘I believe that Macliau still sleeps as he was late to bed,’ she explained when Fidelma asked where everyone was. ‘Iarnbud left in the night. He never accepts the hospitality of the fortress but prefers to sleep on his small boat…if he ever sleeps.’

Fidelma’s eyes narrowed at the comment. ‘What do you mean?’

‘The bretat is a strange man. He was raised in these islands,’ the girl gestured with a hand. ‘He sails the Morbihan at night when seamen fear to sail the dangerous waters. It is said that he is of the old religious and communes with the Otherworld. He wanders the woods and forests and islands almost as a recluse, and yet he appears here whenever lord Canao has need of him.’

‘More superstition,’ muttered Eadulf in the language of Éireann.

‘And where is the lady Trifina?’ asked Fidelma, ignoring the comment.

‘She left the fortress before first light.’

Fidelma was surprised. ‘Is that usual?’ she asked.

‘It is not my place to comment on what the Lady Trifina does,’ replied the girl softly.

‘Of course. And Brother Metellus?’

‘He was late to bed as well. I believe that Macliau and Brother Metellus were slightly the worse for drink.’ Iuna’s voice was disapproving.

‘And the girl, Argantken?’

‘I have no idea where Macliau’s guest is.’ The voice this time held an obvious meaning. ‘She is a local girl and may come or go as she pleases. Now, is there anything you desire for breakfast?’

Fidelma had the passing impression that it was Iuna who was in charge of them rather than being the servant fulfilling their wishes.

They chose a frugal breakfast of barley bread, some cheeses and cold spring water. And when they had finished, Fidelma asked: ‘Will there be any objection to our leaving the fortress?’

The girl’s eyes narrowed slightly.

‘You are guests,’ she replied. ‘You are free to come and go as you will. But what should I tell lord Macliau and your companion, Brother Metellus, when they discover that you have gone?’

Fidelma was patient.

‘I hope we shall return before they are even awake. It was my desire merely to take a stroll along the shoreline below us.’

‘Then it might be advisable, lady, to take one of the guards for your protection.’

‘We will be within sight of the fortress, just along the inlet below.’

The girl opened her mouth as if to protest and then seemed to realise it was not her place to do so.

‘As it pleases you, lady,’ she said tightly.

They left the great hall and walked down to the main gates that were opened, although two warriors stood guard by them. One of the warriors greeted them and Fidelma responded before passing on. They were not questioned and no one objected to their passage, which Eadulf had been expecting, fully believing they were prisoners. Now he began to wonder whether his fears about Brilhag were valid. He silently followed Fidelma along a winding pathway that led across the headland to make a rapid descent to the shore.

The sun was higher now, and slightly behind them. The mist had cleared from the stretch of water before them, which was now reflecting the blue of the sky. The nearest islands stood out clearly, although they became hazier in the distance.

Halfway down the path, Fidelma glanced back across her shoulder towards the fortress. Then at the shoreline before them.

‘This is where we saw those lights last night, along this stretch,’ she said. Then she added quietly, ‘Don’t look round, but we are being followed.’

Eadulf stiffened a little. ‘Followed? By whom? The guards did not seem to be interested in us.’

‘I think it is Iarnbud. I am not too sure.’

Eadulf compressed his lips in annoyance. He had been about to dismiss his fears about their being prisoners and now they swam back into his mind again.

‘Is it just he who is watching us?’

‘Just he,’ she replied, turning and moving quickly on, following the steep path as it wound down to the sandy shore. Then she halted. She had been expecting to find a line of fishermen’s huts or other buildings from which the lights had emanated. There was nothing. Stepping onto the white sands of the beach, she looked up and down. There was nothing to be seen in either direction. Eadulf regarded her with a puzzled expression as she began to walk along the beach, eyes down, concentrating on the sand, going 100 metres or more before turning back and then walking the same distance in the opposite direction.

‘What are you doing?’ he asked.

‘Does anything odd catch your attention?’

‘Apart from our friend sitting on that hill watching us?’ he replied.

Iarnbud was now sitting on a rock on the hill from which they had descended and trying to look inconspicuous.

‘I mean about this place,’ Fidelma replied.

Eadulf shrugged. ‘What should catch my attention? It’s just a normal sandy beach with nothing else.’

‘Exactly. No fishermen’s cabins, no sign of boats. And look at the sand. There are no footprints or signs of disturbance; it is as if nothing has been here.’

‘Perhaps this was not the exact place where we saw the lights,’ Eadulf suggested, as baffled as she was.

Fidelma jerked her head towards the distant fortress. ‘Look again.’

Eadulf realised that this was the only shore that could be seen from the window of their chamber in the fortress. He looked about him more carefully, then shivered superstitiously as he remembered the story Iarnbud had told.

Knowing him of old, Fidelma reassured him. ‘The intention of the story was to frighten us from investigating this beach. Look, Eadulf — they were so worried that they have eliminated all traces of whatever activity has gone on here! That confirms there is a mystery — and that mystery will lead us to the sea raiders.’

‘Eliminated all traces?’ Eadulf was sceptical. ‘You are surely guessing.’

Fidelma controlled her irritation.

‘After all this time,’ she responded quietly, ‘you should know that when I am putting forward a hypothesis, I say that I am doing so. When I make a statement of fact, then it is a statement of fact. Look at this.’

She crossed the sand to the treeline and pointed. Following, Eadulf looked at the object she had indicated. It was a short branch of horse chestnut, snapped off but leaving its thick foliage on it. It was only now that Eadulf realised what the curious patterns across the dry, grainlike sand were.

‘Someone used that branch to sweep away any marks in the sand,’ he noted.

‘Just so. And don’t pick that branch up in case our friend on the hill sees that we have spotted it. We will walk along the shore as far as that rocky outcrop there.’

Eadulf pulled a face but followed her, thinking out loud.

‘There are, of course, several innocent reasons as to why people should be loading boats by torchlight here. Bleidbara said his men were taking supplies to the ship.’

‘Of course,’ agreed Fidelma in conciliatory fashion. ‘This is a natural landing-place by the fortress and, as Trifina said last night, they have a similar dwelling on one of the islands. Why shouldn’t they be transporting things to and from and at whatever time of the day or night they think fit? Bleidbara was quite open about it, once he had permission from Trifina. You did not see the looks passed at the table last night?’

‘No.’ Eadulf glanced at her uneasily.

‘So why did they alert our attention to the fact that they wanted to keep this hidden?’ she went on. ‘They surely cannot think we would be so stupid as not to see through all their storytelling?’

They walked along the beach deep in thought for a while. Fidelma suddenly halted.

The beach was intersected by a stream coming down through the woods from the hill behind the fortress before trickling across the sands to the sea. Beyond it was a large outcrop of rocks that acted as a natural breakwater and as a wall between the sandy shore and what lay on the far side of the rocks. Between the stream and the rocks the sand seemed to change its colour and texture a little. Eadulf knew that he had seen something similar before, but he could not remember where.

However, it was not this that had caught Fidelma’s attention; she was staring at the rocks beyond.

‘Look!’ she said softly. ‘There is the mast of a boat. Beyond those rocks must be the harbour for the fortress. I thought it odd that they would use an open beach without a jetty.’

Eadulf followed her gaze towards the sea end of the line of rocks. Indeed, there was a boat’s mast poking above them. He estimated it was a small sailing craft. At the top of the mast was a strip of white silk. Although the emblem was not clear, for it hung limply as the morning breeze had dropped away, Eadulf was sure that it was the dove emblem of the mac’htiern of Brilhag.

‘Come on,’ Fidelma urged. ‘Let’s have a look at it. We can easily scramble over these rocks.’

The water from the stream trickling across the sands barely came over her insteps and she crossed it in two strides and went enthusiastically onward.

Eadulf was halfway across the stream close behind her when he suddenly recalled where he had seen the texture of the sand before.

‘Stop!’

By the time his yell had resounded, she was up to her ankles in quicksand.

He came quickly up, searching the sands behind her, before he grabbed her and pulled her backwards. They tumbled down together into the cold water of the stream — but at least the stream was flowing across a thickly compacted, firm stretch of sand. Then they scrambled hastily to their feet and moved back to where they knew the sand was safe. Fidelma had lost her sandals in the quicksand; indeed, they had already vanished beneath it.

She stood looking at the innocent-looking expanse, breathing heavily.

‘I’m sorry,’ muttered Eadulf, trying to dislodge the clinging wet sand from his clothing. ‘I should have realised it sooner. Remember the quicksand across the stretch of water to the fortress of Uallaman the Leper? It eventually killed him and could have killed many others. I knew I had seen such a texture of sand before, It is not the same as normal sand. There is something about it…’

‘Well, thankfully you recognised it in time,’ Fidelma interrupted. ‘Had I been moving more quickly, then-’

‘Hóigh!’ They heard the voice faintly and glanced back. The familiar form of Brother Metellus was hurrying across the sands, waving at them.

Fidelma looked at Eadulf with a grim expression.

‘I wonder if we have just found out the answer to our question?’ she mused softly.

‘The answer…?’ Eadulf’s eyes widened as he took in what she meant. ‘Do you think that we were intended to go into that quicksand?’

‘It is a thought,’ she said, and turned to face Brother Metellus who came panting up to them, red-faced and a trifle out of breath.

‘Deo favente!’ he gasped. ‘I have caught you in time. Do you know that you were walking into an area of quicksand?’

Fidelma answered with an ironic smile. ‘I am afraid that we have already learned that,’ she said.

The monk glanced down at their soiled clothing and his mouth opened and for a moment he could say nothing. Then he stammered, ‘Th-thank God you have been saved. How?’

Eadulf was watching Brother Metellus’ face closely.

‘By the grace of God,’ he replied simply. ‘But how came you here after us?’

Brother Metellus blinked. ‘I was told by Iuna that you had gone walking on the shore alone.’

‘Alone?’ Eadulf jerked his head towards the hills. ‘I thought Iarnbud was watching over us from a discreet distance.’

‘Iarnbud? I saw no one on my way here. No, when I heard that you had set out for this shore I wondered if anyone had warned you of this area of quicksand. It is notorious among locals and people avoid this side of the rockline between there and the stream.’

‘That we can imagine. But we were not warned.’

‘I came hurrying after you — to warn you.’

‘Why were you so sure that we had come this way?’

Brother Metellus looked bewildered for a moment.

‘There is only one strand where there is danger. This one. To get to the safer little harbour you have to leave the fortress through the kitchens and out a side door. But you came through the main gates. So I came here immediately and saw you from a distance. I shouted to warn you. Why do you ask these questions? Do you not believe me? Do you not trust me?’

Fidelma reached out a hand and laid it on the man’s arm in reassurance.

‘Forgive us. It was a close escape from danger and we are slightly distraught. But for your timely assistance, Brother Metellus, we are most grateful. And now, I’m afraid, we must return to the fortress and prevail upon our hosts for more clothing and footwear, for I am afraid I have lost my sandals and our clothes need washing.’

They turned together and began to walk slowly back along the beach.

‘Were you looking for anything in particular?’ Brother Metellus asked after a few moments, breaking the silence. ‘You seemed interested in the lights on the foreshore last night.’

‘What should we be looking for?’ queried Fidelma innocently.

‘Bleidbara explained that his men were taking supplies to his ship last night. I thought perhaps you took the opportunity to come to see. But I note that Bleidbara has already sailed.’

‘Did you know that the Lord of Canao kept a ship?’

‘Many of the lords around Morbihan have ships.’ Brother Metellus smiled and shrugged. ‘It is a tradition among the people whose ancestors were the Veneti.’

His words gave Fidelma food for thought.

There was no sign of Iarnbud as they returned up the hill towards the fortress. Nor was there any sign still of Macliau when they entered the great hall, but Iuna came forward, allowing her eyes to drop to Fidelma’s bare feet and the dishevelled clothing.

‘You have met with misfortune, lady.’ Her voice was flat, unemotional.

Fidelma wondered for a moment if the girl was being sarcastic. Iuna’s features were composed as if carved from wood.

‘You did not warn us about the quicksand on the beach.’ She made it into a statement and not an accusation.

‘I did advise that you take a guard with you, lady, but you seemed adamant to proceed on your own. I had no means of knowing that you would take that path to that beach. It is not a place that leads anywhere.’

Fidelma realised it was pointless to pursue the matter.

‘Well, Eadulf and I shall need new clothing and these should be cleaned.’

Iuna lowered her gaze a fraction. ‘It shall be done, lady.’

It was only a short while before they both rejoined Brother Metellus in the great hall, by which time the youthful Macliau had risen and joined them, his ever-present dog Albiorix trotting closely at his heels. It was clear that he was suffering from his over-indulgence of alcohol on the previous evening. However, he greeted them warmly, as if relieved to see them both again.

‘I was told that you nearly walked into the quicksand on the beach. It is a bad area indeed — you should have avoided it. Why did you leave the fortress without a guard?’

‘We merely wanted to go for some exercise along the beach,’ Fidelma replied. ‘We were in sight of the fortress and thought no harm would have come to us.’

‘Ah well, no matter. What is the ancient saying — si finis bonus est, totum bonum erit — if the end is good, everything will be good.’ Macliau paused a moment and then said: ‘Boric and his men have returned from the abbey. He tells me that he has seen Aourken and brought back your few belongings. Iuna will send them to your room. The bodies of Biscam and his men have been taken to the abbey and Abbot Maelcar has agreed to give them burial.’

‘That is good,’ Brother Metellus commented.

‘But there is also bad news,’ added Macliau. ‘The survivor of the attack did not live the night. You did not tell us that there was a survivor?’

‘The wound was a bad one but I did not think it life-threatening,’ Eadulf blurted in surprise.

‘We forgot about him,’ Fidelma said quickly. ‘Dead, you say?’

‘The physician at the abbey told my men that his condition had been very bad,’ continued Macliau. ‘In fact, he said that there was no hope for him. He was surprised that the man survived long enough to get to the abbey.’

Eadulf’s lips compressed in annoyance. That had certainly not been what the physician had told them when they had seen the man at the abbey. And Eadulf had not told anyone that he had spent some years at Ireland’s foremost medical school of Tuam Brecain, studying the healing arts. He knew that the man should not have died. He glanced at Fidelma but saw the warning look in her eyes.

‘So now we have no one who can identify the attackers,’ Brother Metellus sighed, having also picked up the warning glance.

‘And that is a pity,’ Fidelma said heavily.

‘Indeed,’ agreed Macliau. ‘Moreover, my warriors also tried to follow the tracks of Biscam’s donkeys. They led into the marshy land before they disappeared.’

‘Is it not worrying to you that your sister Trifina has left this fortress early this morning, apparently alone?’ Fidelma suddenly asked.

Macliau chuckled and shook his head.

‘My dear lady, my sister and I were born and grew up here. We know these woods like the backs of our hands. And no one would dare to challenge us in this, our own territory. Anyway, Trifina has probably gone back to our island of Govihan. She frequently goes there. And, wherever she goes, she takes a couple of warriors.’

‘You have no worries about her safety in the circumstances?’

‘When you are home in your brother’s kingdom, does your brother come running after you, lady?’ replied Macliau.

‘If there were raiders wandering loose, he might well be worried,’ Fidelma replied sharply.

‘I think they will have fled back to their lair, having carried out such an attack. That might be anywhere.’

Fidelma sniffed. ‘Perhaps. But it would be better to be certain.’

‘Well, lady, it is a matter of speculation. I have no evidence to the contrary. Speculation without knowledge is pointless,’ Macliau said glibly.

Fidelma coloured as the young man used a phrase she was fond of declaiming.

‘Anyway, Argantken and I have arranged to go hunting,’ he continued, still with an amused expression. ‘So the hospitality of Brilhag is yours to do with as you see fit.’

The statement surprised both Fidelma and Eadulf. After his late night and heavy consumption of wine, they were amazed that the young man had been able to rise before noon. Seeing their expressions, he interpreted them as concern for his safety under the present conditions.

‘You need have no care for me either,’ he told them smugly. ‘I shall have my warriors with me. I will return this evening but, meanwhile, this fortress may be considered your home. Ask of Iuna what you will, for she is in charge of the household.’

‘I look forward to your safe return, Macliau,’ Fidelma replied coolly.

It was Eadulf who thanked him for his continuing hospitality, feeling that perhaps Fidelma had been a little too abrasive with the young lord. The latter merely nodded in acknowledgement, turned away and whistled — at which sound his little dog came bounding towards him.

Fidelma and Eadulf looked from one of the windows of the great hall and saw that horses were already saddled in the courtyard outside. Argantken was mounted and waiting for Macliau. Two warriors and two others, huntsmen by their attire, were also in attendance. When Macliau had joined them, the party set off through the gates, with Albiorix the dog yelping and scampering behind them.

After they had gone, Brother Metellus addressed Fidelma sternly.

‘You made your disapproval of the conduct of Macliau very obvious. I feel it my duty to point out that you are here under the laws of hospitality, and that although you are honoured in your country of Hibernia, being the sister of a king, here you are a stranger in a strange land. Macliau is the son of the mac’htiern of Brilhag, a descendant of the rulers of Bro-Waroch, and he should be treated with all respect.’

Fidelma’s eyes flashed warningly, which only Eadulf interpreted, and he spoke quickly before she did.

‘You are right to point these things out, Brother Metellus, and we accept them. But these are trying circumstances and we should not have to repeat warnings of the dangers.’

Brother Metellus was also serious. ‘I had some role in this matter, as I recall.’

At once, Fidelma was contrite.

‘My apologies to you, Brother Metellus. You saved us from death. But do you not find it odd that the man we left, well on his way to recovery, was now said to be so ill that he did not survive the night?’

Brother Metellus hesitated a moment. Then he spoke quietly.

‘I am not forgetting why we came to this fortress. I am not forgetting the banner that Biscam held in his lifeless hand — the banner that flies above this very place. But truly I cannot see what reason there would be for the family of Brilhag to be involved in either sea raiding or robbing merchants passing through their country. Having said that, I cannot deny the evidence of the banner.’

‘For the moment, what we know about that banner must remain between us,’ Eadulf advised.

‘Do not worry,’ returned Brother Melletus. ‘I am as concerned about the truth of this as you are.’

‘Then we are agreed,’ Fidelma said. ‘I will try to be more circumspect, but it is frustrating to feel that there is a mystery here and no path to follow to seek it out.’

‘Let us consider this logically,’ Brother Metellus invited. ‘Why would the mac’htiern of Brilhag be behind these actions? Why would he turn sea raider or thief when he is lord of all on this peninsula and indeed, can claim authority throughout all of Bro-Waroch?’

‘You ask good questions, Brother Metellus,’ Fidelma replied. ‘I cannot supply the answers to them yet. In those answers is the solution to the conundrum that faces us: whoever is behind these crimes does them under the banner of this fortress. Now you tell me why that is?’

But Brother Metellus was unable to offer an explanation, and as he struggled to do so, a faint trumpet sounded from beyond the gates.

‘What does that signify?’ asked Eadulf, as he saw Brother Metellus raise his head with a puzzled expression. ‘Is Macliau in trouble?’

‘It is a call to alert the guards of the approach of someone of importance.’

The trumpet sounded again, closer to the fortress, and they all went out together to watch the newcomers’ arrival.

Several guards had now taken up positions. A line of horses was trotting along the track towards the open gates. Warriors rode the first two animals. The next carried a woman, who rode on her own. She was a tall, slim figure, richly clad. Behind her came another woman, then two more warriors, and finally two attendants who were holding the lead reins of two asses on which baggage was strapped.

The cavalcade entered the fortress and came to a halt before the steps leading to the doors of the great hall where Fidelma’s little party stood.

One of the warriors, a good-looking young man, immediately leaped down from his horse and went over to the tall woman’s mount, where he knelt, so that she could use his broad back as a step to alight. No one else moved as she did so. Then she walked slowly over to the steps where Fidelma, Eadulf and Brother Metellus stood. The young warrior came behind her, eyes narrowed as he held them in his keen gaze, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword. They halted at the foot of the steps.

The woman was as tall as Fidelma; her hair was a honey colour, glinting with slight touches of red. Her headdress was fastened around her forehead by a circlet of gold with a gleaming sapphire stone in its centre. Her clothes and jewellery were equally rich, for she had pushed back her blue riding cloak, displaying her costume and jewellery. But it was not these accoutrements that drew Fidelma’s attention. It was her unusual beauty.

The woman was younger than Fidelma and her heart-shaped face had a curious ethereal quality. And yet the firm chin spoke of authority and purpose. Her eyes were soft grey in colour; her red lips owed nothing to artifice.

At this moment of meeting, her grey eyes stared with curiosity into the fiery green of Fidelma’s eyes. Then she spoke in the language of the country.

Brother Metellus coughed nervously, moved a step forward and said something quickly in response.

The grey eyes widened a fraction. The woman did not respond to Brother Metellus but continued to gaze thoughtfully at Fidelma. After this close scrutiny she then addressed her in Latin.

‘I am Riwanon, wife to Alain, King of the Bretons. Why am I requested to speak to you in this language?’