Behold a Pale Horse (31 page)

The two warriors mounted their horses and then Fidelma and Brother Eolann were helped to swing up behind them. Suidur was already in the saddle and the three horses moved off quietly through the woods, skirting round the few lights that showed the extent of the settlement that spread under the fortress of the Lord of Vars. For a physician Suidur showed a surprising knowledge of how to trek quietly through the woods. The thought crossed Fidelma’s mind that perhaps the man had been a soldier before he became a physician.

She clung on to the rider before her, trying to make sense of the events that had transpired. Could these be the same men she had seen speaking with Suidur in the fortress of Radoald? The same men who had witnessed Brother Eolann and herself being brought as prisoners to the fortress of the Lord of Vars? Suidur had appeared at Grasulf’s fortress and apparently been welcomed there. Why had he rescued her and Brother Eolann? It made no sense at all.

With the questions swimming in her mind they rode on, moving without speed, until the township was well behind them. They reached an open track which ran alongside a noisy gushing river. Fidelma noticed from the white frothy movement of the current that they were heading upstream into the mountains. By her reckoning, the mountain that they had come over, Mount Pénas, lay behind her left shoulder. But it was still a long way from first light and although the sky was cloudless and the moon high and bright, she could not be sure.

It was now that Suidur raised his hand and gestured in a forward motion. The pace of the horses began to increase to a trot and then a canter. Fidelma had ridden almost before she had begun to walk and considered herself a capable horsewoman. The horse beneath her had certainly not been bred for the fields or for hauling carts. She felt the strong muscles as the beast stretched its powerful limbs beneath her. She knew instinctively that the rider was keeping it in check otherwise it would break into a full-scale gallop. This was a horse bred for warriors, a warhorse. She could not see in the darkness but she suspected it was of the singular breed that she had seen in the valley before.

There came a point when they began to climb so steeply that eventually the canter was slowed and fell back to a walking pace. By this time, a light glimmered in the eastern sky, indicating the coming dawn. Fidelma knew that they had crossed several streams. Perhaps they were crossing and re-crossing the same watercourse? An attempt to throw off any trackers with hunting dogs?

It was not until the sun was pushing above the far eastern hills that she realised they had climbed a fair way into the mountains. It was then that Suidur pointed to a distant herder’s hut. At least, she assumed it was, because she could not think of anyone else who would dwell this high up in the mountains. Suidur did not make any explanation as they continued slowly towards the hut. Only when they reached it did he halt and announce: ‘Here we will rest.’

Fidelma slid from her perch, feeling remarkably alert for someone who had had so little sleep. Brother Eolann was stretching himself after the lengthy ride while the two warriors, for the dawn had revealed the two silent men to be such, had taken the horses to a small paddock behind the hut to rub them down and fodder them. Fidelma peered at the peaks that arose all about them before she said to Suidur: ‘We are nowhere near Mount Pénas.’

The physician smiled. ‘You are observant, lady. True, we have come further south. We have followed the Staffel River, and that high peak before us is the mountain on which it rises. It is said that the Carthaginian Hannibal climbed up it when he was resting his army in the Trebbia Valley on the far side.’

‘So we are not far from Bobium?’

‘No, not far. We will eventually cross the mountains almost opposite Radoald’s fortress, a little to the south. This way we may fool Grasulf, who may think you will head directly to Bobium and therefore send his men to stop you crossing Mount Pénas. I suggest that you and your companion get some sleep. We have only done a third of our journey, for both the climb on this side and the descent into the Trebbia Valley are difficult. That mountain is the highest in this range and we will skirt it, going over via a lesser height and come on a trackway that will wind down to the Trebbia.’

Brother Eolann came forward, looking sleepy. ‘
Gratias tibi ago
,’ he said. ‘I do not know you although I have seen you from a distance. But Brother Hnikar speaks highly of your skills. I thank you for your timely intervention.’

‘
Non est tanti
,’ replied Suidur, dismissing his thanks with the traditional saying that it was nothing.

Fidelma, however, knew that there were questions to be asked, and the sooner the better. At least, with daylight, she could see that the two warriors who accompanied them were
not
the same men who had twice attacked Magister Ado – although they wore the same manner of clothing and emblem.

‘Why?’ she suddenly asked.

‘Why?’ repeated Suidur.

‘I do not understand why you put yourself into such danger to rescue us. You went to the Lord of Vars and seemed to be welcomed as a friend. You say that you drank with him and his steward and even placed some sleep-inducing potion in their drinks and then helped us escape from our prison. It occurs to me that I should ask the question –
why
?’

Suidur gazed thoughtfully at her. ‘Would it not be easier to have some rest first and then discuss this question at more leisure when we have eaten?’

Fidelma shook her head firmly. ‘I cannot rest with such questions swimming in my mind,’ she said simply.

‘Very well.’ Suidur went into the hut and motioned them inside. Fidelma was surprised to see ashes still glowing in a central hearth and within a few moments the physician had added more fuel and stirred it into a blaze. ‘This is one of the places Lord Radoald maintains to keep watch on his western borders.’

He motioned them to be seated. There were rugs and blankets which they arranged around the fire.

‘And now,’ Suidur said with a smile, ‘how did I come to the fortress of Grasulf? Last night I was visiting …’ he hesitated ‘… shall we say a loyal servant of Lord Radoald. Oh yes, we have spies here. You may have deduced that Grasulf is a man of certain beliefs. One is a belief in gold. We have learned that Perctarit, the deposed King, has offered Grasulf gold for his allegiance. Once Grasulf has that gold, he will raise his people to attack his neighbours.’

‘It does not explain what you were doing in the fortress,’ pointed out Fidelma.

‘All in good time, lady. My men,’ he indicated the two warriors outside, ‘often go there, pretending to be in sympathy. You might have seen them before, because they were in the fortress when you arrived as prisoners. They alerted me when I came to make contact with my … my spy.’

‘I saw them,’ Fidelma agreed.

‘They recognised Brother Eolann and described you. I knew Lord Radoald would not want you to remain in the hands of Grasulf, who has been known to sell women to slavers. Leaving my men, with the horses, at the bottom of the hill, I went up to the fortress and sought entrance. It is not the first time that I had been an envoy between Radoald and Grasulf, therefore I was known at the fortress.

‘As you saw, Grasulf welcomed me, thinking I had arrived in this role and, naturally, I pretended that I had come with counter-proposals to pay for his allegiance. However, it was decided that we needed to prepare our negotiation in liquid form. Grasulf was most willing to do so; he had already drunk much wine and it was easy to pour my potion into his drink. I also did the same with Kakko. My men had told me which chambers you had been placed in, and the rest was simple.’

It sounded simple. Perhaps too simple, Fidelma thought. Her mind was spinning with questions again.

‘And now,’ Suidur was saying, ‘since you have asked me for my story, lady, may I ask how you came to be prisoners in Grasulf’s fortress?’

She glanced quickly at Brother Eolann, hoping to warn him not to mention the finding of Lady Gunora’s body. No need to part with all the information until she knew how, or if, these matters related. However, Brother Eolann had sunk back and was breathing deeply. Suidur followed her glance, saying, ‘Our friend is asleep, as you should be.’

‘Then my story first, Suidur. Brother Eolann offered to take me to the sanctuary of Colm Bán on the peak of Mount Pénas – with the approval of Abbot Servillius, of course. When I return to Hibernia, my people will want to know all about the abbey. So, we climbed up the mountain and stayed the night at the sanctuary. Just when we were about to return to the abbey the next morning, Grasulf’s men appeared and took us captive to his fortress.’

‘You are a stranger in this land, Fidelma of Hibernia,’ Suidur said solemnly. ‘There are many things that are going to be unusual and even curious to a stranger’s perception. If I might offer some advice, I would return to your own land as soon as you can. There is an evil spreading through these mountains.’ Suddenly he stood up. ‘Now once more, I plead with you to rest. We shall move off at midday. We will not reach Radoald’s fortress until tomorrow, so we will have to spend tonight on the mountain.’

It was midday when Fidelma awoke. The sun stood high in a cloudless sky. Brother Eolann was also stirring but there was no sign of Suidur, although she could hear movement outside the hut. She rose quickly and looked out. Suidur was talking to the two warriors in the swift, guttural tones of the local language. Fidelma glanced back to the
scriptor
who was sitting up and blinking.

‘Brother Eolann,’ she whispered urgently, ‘a word of warning. Do not mention finding the body of Lady Gunora, nor anything about the coins or Wamba.’

Brother Eolann frowned. ‘Or anything about the missing prince?’

‘Exactly. Let us be circumspect.’

‘Ah, you are both awake.’ The shadow of Suidur had fallen across the doorway. ‘That is good. We must be on our way soon.’

‘A wash and some food would be appreciated before we set off again, if that is possible,’ Fidelma said.

‘There is a stream and a little waterfall behind this hut, lady,’ Suidur replied. ‘And there is something to eat before we set off.’

Fidelma took her
ciorr bholg
, her comb bag with her toiletries, and made her way to a sheltered spot at the back of the hut. The cold water was refreshing, splashing down the mountain to form both a pool and a shower. She hurried over her toilet so that Brother Eolann could follow her example. She presumed that Suidur and his men had already washed for they looked refreshed as if they had not ridden through the night. The meal was of goat’s cheese and fruit, washed down by the crystal waters of the mountain stream.

It turned out that the two warriors spoke no Latin and so the conversation was limited to Suidur. Brother Eolann exchanged a few words with them but they gave the impression of preferring not to engage in conversation.

‘I think Radoald mentioned that his family would suffer if Perctarit returned as King,’ Fidelma commented, as they began to eat. ‘Is that why he is anxious about Grasulf?’

Suidur nodded. ‘Radoald’s father helped Grimoald to overthrow Perctarit, driving him into exile in the lands of the Franks. Radoald fought alongside his father, Lord Billo. His father did not return to Trebbia and Radoald became Lord. I doubt whether Perctarit will feel kindly towards Radoald if he returns to power in this land.’

‘When we were in Grasulf’s fortress a messenger rode in to say that Lupus had turned against Grimoald but had been destroyed with his army after four days of fighting somewhere. Is that bad?’

The physician studied her with keen interest.

‘For a stranger, lady, you have picked up much. We heard about this story too. The answer is that it might be bad for us, for it depends on what the Khagan will do next.’

‘The one who defeated Lupus?’

‘The same. It seems that Grimoald, unable to march north quickly enough to face Lupus, offered an alliance with the leader of the Avars. The Avars threw themselves against Lupus and defeated him. But what will the Khagan demand of Grimoald in return? Will the Avars flood into this land? If so, then God help every one of us. To the Avars we are all sheep ready to be shorn.’

‘I presume the Avars are not followers of the Faith?’

‘So far as I know they will follow any faith they believe helps them – from their chief god, Ts’ob, to various forms of our own Christ. But they are hungry for land and power and, frankly, the news that Grimoald had formed an alliance with them is not pleasing to our people.’

‘You think these lands are in immediate danger?’ interposed Brother Eolann.

‘What is happening is setting brother against brother and neighbour against neighbour. The Pale Horse will be sweeping through these valleys soon and none will be spared.’

‘Pale Horse?’ queried Fidelma.

‘The rider is Death himself,’ replied Suidur. ‘That is why I offered my advice – leave this land while you can.’

Fidelma turned her gaze across the mountains to the north and the east and sighed. ‘It seems so peaceful and beautiful.’

‘Even from ancient times these valleys have been drenched in blood. The Ligurians, the Gauls, the Romans, the Carthaginians, then the Romans again and then my own people, the Longobards – they have all fertilised these beautiful valleys with their blood. It will be so again.’ Suidur stood up and appeared to be contemplating the prediction for a moment before turning to his men and snapping an order. They began to pack up and prepare the horses.