Behold a Pale Horse (38 page)

Fidelma waited a moment before making up her mind to bathe after her journey. Later, she lay down in her chamber and dozed for a while. It was growing late when she opened her eyes. Time had passed quickly. Her feelings of unease began to increase. She must not delay in questioning Abbot Servillius about his visit to Hawisa. When she went down to the main hall and found Brother Wulfila, she was informed that the abbot had not yet emerged. His strict instruction was that he should not be disturbed before the bell for the evening meal.

In response to her question, the steward declared that he had not seen Brother Eolann since midday. There was no further news of Sister Gisa, but Brother Faro had returned – although on being told of Sister Gisa’s absence, he insisted on leaving the abbey again to see if he could find his companion. The steward seemed distressed that no one appeared to be obeying the rules of the abbey any more.

Annoyed at what she saw as timewasting, Fidelma decided to seek out Venerable Ionas again to see if his scholarship could shed light on those matters that were worrying her. She retraced her steps to the
scriptorium
and then found his chamber. A few seconds after tapping on the door, the elderly scholar’s voice invited her to enter. He was sitting at his desk with some manuscript books laid out in front of him and a quill in his hand.

‘Venerable Ionas, may I bother you for a moment?’

The old man sat back from his desk with a frown and laid down the quill. ‘If you are still looking for Brother Eolann, he has not been seen yet. It is very vexatious.’

‘I have heard as much from Brother Wulfila,’ she replied, entering and shutting the door behind her. ‘But it is about another matter I have come to seek your advice.’

‘Then how can I be of help, Sister Fidelma?’ he asked with interest.

‘I hear that you know something about ancient coins.’

‘I know a little, for in the study of history, coins can sometimes be useful.’

‘Can you tell me what this is?’ She had taken the gold coin from her
ciorr bholg
, or comb bag, and placed it in his hand, before sitting by his desk on a small stool.

Venerable Ionas peered at it shortsightedly, turning it over in his frail hands. Then he nodded slowly. ‘A gold piece from ancient Gaul. It looks quite old. Where did you find it?’

‘Oh, it was given to me.’ Fidelma glossed over its provenance. ‘But are you sure it is from Gaul, not a local coin?’

‘See the charioteer on it, the horses with stars above them?’ Venerable Ionas held up the coin to the light of his lamp. ‘And see those letters on the obverse? That is a gold coin of the Tectosages of Gaul. Their capital was the city of Tolosa.’

Fidelma tried not to reveal that Tolosa meant anything to her. She was about to thank the old scholar when a thought struck her.

‘You have been here many years, Venerable Ionas?’ It was a question rather than a comment.

‘I came here a few years after the death of our dearly beloved Columbanus, and met and spoke with those who had known him in life,’ he replied. ‘That was when I began writing my life of our founder. After that I wandered in several parts of Christendom, even among the Franks and then to Rome. That is where I picked up my knowledge of Gaulish coins, so I can identify the one you hold.’

‘Brother Eolann mentioned you had such knowledge.’

‘He is a good
scriptor
.’

‘Do you know much about him?’

The old man was surprised. ‘I thought that he came from the same part of the world as you do?’

‘He does,’ agreed Fidelma quickly. ‘I meant, since he came to this abbey.’

‘Oh, he has only been here two or three years. I am told that he first went to the Abbey of Gallen, an Hibernian whom you called Gall. Then he crossed the high peaks and spent some time in Mailand. That was about the time when Perctarit still ruled from there, before he was driven into exile. Brother Eolann then came here, seeking peace and solitude. He had talent and soon rose to become
scriptor
of the abbey.’

‘But he was sad at being criticised when some of his books were needlessly ruined. Some of their pages were cut off and disappeared.’

‘I do not remember mention of that,’ said the old scholar. ‘I was not told and I use the library every day.’

‘I see,’ she said thoughtfully.

‘It is a great crime to destroy books,’ he went on.

‘Brother Eolann and I managed to ascertain that the pages had been cut from books by Livy and Pliny. We identified the pages from Livy. They had been removed from one of the books containing a passage about a Roman Proconsul named Caepio. His legions were destroyed in Gaul.’

Venerable Ionas looked at her with quick interest.

‘Caepio? Yes, he was the Proconsul and Governor of this very territory in the days of the old Empire. He was the great-grandfather of Marcus Brutus, one of the assassins of the General Julius Caesar.’

‘I have heard of Julius Caesar,’ Fidelma admitted. ‘But that must have been in very ancient times then? I had a feeling that Caepio had some more immediate connection with this area – some legacy.’

‘Caepio?’ Venerable Ionas shook his head. ‘No, he lived a long time before Julius Caesar – many years, in fact, before the Coming of the Christ. Caepio’s legacy was reviled throughout the Empire. There is a good reason why his life was not considered worthy. His arrogance destroyed two Roman armies, tens of thousands of men, but he escaped with his life. He was taken before the Roman Senate, tried and found guilty of the destruction of his army and of embezzlement of money. Being a patrician he was stripped of his citizenship and ordered into exile. No one was allowed to provide him with fire or water within eight hundred Roman miles of the Senate House, and he was fined fifteen thousand gold talents. He was not allowed to speak to friends or family from the moment of his sentence. The story is that he managed to reach a Greek city in the east and died there in exile.’

Fidelma was quiet. Venerable Ionas’ account more or less confirmed and expanded the few words that she had seen in the book in the library at Vars.

‘Why would pages relating to Caepio be cut out of the books in the abbey library?’ asked Venerable Ionas.

‘I was told there was some legend connected with gold from Tolosa,’ she said.

The elderly scholar looked at the coin and grimaced. ‘The same old dream.
Aurum Tolosa
, eh?’

‘Then you know of it?’ Fidelma asked quickly.

‘The people of these valleys often talk about it. It is more or less the gold of fools. A myth. It doesn’t exist.’

‘But tell me about it.’

‘Before the battle in which the Roman armies were annihilated, Caepio and his legions attacked and sacked the town of Tolosa and carried off a vast amount of gold and silver. Some stories even say that the people had hidden the gold in a great, dark lake, but Caepio managed to recover it …’

‘That which was taken from a watery grave must be returned to it,’ muttered Fidelma.

‘What?’ frowned the old scholar.

‘Forgive me, I was just remembering something that someone said. Go on.’

‘Well, the figures vary, but it is said that the legionnaires filled forty-six wagons with gold and silver. Caepio then sent them back to his villa in Placentia. When the Senate asked him where the gold was, he claimed it had never reached Placentia – that the wagons had been attacked by bandits and looted on the way. The Senate didn’t believe him. They believed that he had appropriated the gold for himself and had buried it somewhere in these very mountains – hence the severity of his sentence. The fact was that it disappeared and over the many centuries since, it has become a myth. So why are you interested in this?’ He held up the coin and examined it. ‘A gold coin of Tolosa … a coin of the Tectosages.’ He began to smile. ‘Ah, don’t tell me that someone is trying to persuade you that this coin is part of the lost gold of Tolosa?’

Fidelma flushed slightly. ‘Not at all,’ she asserted. ‘I was mainly concerned why the pages about Caepio should be removed from the books in the library. Brother Eolann was most upset about this.’

‘Well, I can understand that the destruction of a book would be a great affront. He should have reported the matter. I would not believe that the contents of the pages would be important in themselves. We have far more detailed accounts about Caepio in another book, which I have used recently. There is a little book in the
scriptorium
on the life of the Proconsul. Brother Eolann was especially proud of it as it was a very rare copy. Apparently it was banned by the
curule aediles
in Rome.’

‘The what?’ Fidelma asked, puzzled.

‘
Curule aediles
? Ancient Roman magistrates. For some reason we had one of the copies that escaped destruction. I believe it might have survived because it was written by a Gaul from Narbona – Trogus Pompeius.’

‘Why would the life of Caepio be banned? Because of the subject or the writer?’

‘I would think that Proconsul Caepio was not the most worthy of the Servillius clan.’

Fidelma was about to turn away when the name registered with her. ‘Did you say the Servillius clan?’ she asked.

‘Servillius was a patronymic name. The Proconsul’s full name was Quintus Servillius Caepio.
Vitae Quintus Servillius Caepeio
is the volume that you are looking for. The Servillius family were an ancient patrician family in the days of the Republic and Empire, and often obtained the consulship. They survived many, many centuries.’

Fidelma was thoughtful. She picked up the coin and went to the door, pausing to say, ‘Thank you for your wisdom, Venerable Ionas. It is of much help to me.’

‘As I recall, you will find the story told by Trogus more in keeping with mythology,’ called Venerable Ionas. ‘He claims that the gold of Tolosa was initially looted from the sacred Greek temples of Delphi. The Tectosages were one of the Gaulish tribes who invaded Greece just after the death of the Great Alexander and sacked the gold and wealth of the temple of the Oracle. Each time the story is told, it becomes more fabulous in the telling. Trogus was a Gaul and a good storyteller. He knew many of the local legends associated with the campaign against the Gauls. So his account might give you further information.’

Fidelma left as the Venerable Ionas bent over his work again. Outside his study, she replaced the gold coin safely back in her comb bag. Her mind turned over the patronymic of Caepio in her mind. An ancient patrician family that had survived many centuries … She made her way into the
scriptorium
. Now she felt that she was getting nearer to that elusive connection. Brother Eolann was still not there, yet now there was a lamp lit on the table. Beside the lamp was a book opened at the first page. She caught sight of the title.

It was Trogus Pompeius’
Vitae Quintus Servillius Caepeio
.

She swung round quickly, glancing into the darkened corners of the library. Was she being set up for some purpose? The book did not get there on its own just when she needed it. With tightened jaw she leaned towards the book. She began to turn the pages – and then stopped with a gasp.

The book was a thin volume – but when opened, it was obvious why. Several of the pages had been cut from it.

Now she knew whom she had to confront, but she also knew that she could not do it alone. She retraced her steps to Venerable Ionas’ study. He looked up in surprise as she entered, without knocking this time, and sat down. She held out the copy of the book to him. He saw the section where the pages had been cut and turned a frowning glance to Fidelma.

‘I think it is time I had a word with Abbot Servillius.’ She laid a heavy stress on the last name.

‘Abbot Servillius?’ asked Venerable Ionas. ‘Why?’

‘You told me that Servillius was a
nomen
, a patronymic name. Quintus
Servillius
Caepio.’ She laid stress on the middle name.

Abbot Ionas regarded her with some amusement. ‘I cannot quite see how your mind is working, my child. You comment on the similarity of the name.’

‘I seem to have stumbled on a series of matters that relate to this fabled gold hoard of Quintus Servillius Caepio. I believe a boy was killed because he stumbled on the hoard or the route to it. The killer wanted it kept secret. But it became known that the boy had spoken to someone in this abbey who might be able to work out what it was all about. Therefore the killer decided to eliminate all the clues that he could. Cutting pages from the books in the
scriptorium
which linked to the story of this fabulous treasure was one way.’

‘You mean the references to what Caepio did? His sack of Tolosa, his appropriation of the gold and silver; the story that he brought the treasure back to this land, where he was Proconsul and Governor; that he hid it, before his final disgrace in Rome.’ Venerable Ionas was still smiling. ‘That seems somewhat far-fetched.’

‘The killer tried to expunge any route that might have led to Caepio’s gold –
Servillius
’ gold.’

Venerable Ionas sat back, chuckling softly. ‘You are arguing that our abbot is a descendant of the Servillius family. That may well be. Servillius has always been proud that he is descended from an old and local patrician family. But are you arguing that he also holds the secret of Caepio’s gold – that he has tried to prevent others from finding it?’