Behold a Pale Horse (43 page)

The gates of the fortress swung open and her escorts cantered into the courtyard. Her jaw tightened. Fidelma realised that there were still several questions to be answered, but she felt confident that she had the outline, if not the detail, of the mystery.

No one said anything, no one made any move, as the dust settled around them. Then, from the main door to the great hall, a figure with white hair emerged – a tall, smiling figure. It was that of the physician, Suidur the Wise.

‘Well, Sister Fidelma – or should I call you Lady Fidelma? I am never quite sure of the correct usage for a princess who has become a religieuse.’ He bowed with a touch of irony. ‘You are most welcome here. Get you down and come inside and take some refreshment. The dust of travel causes the throat to dry.’

‘These are warriors from Grimoald,’ Suidur explained when he saw her glance towards her captors. ‘I am afraid they can become a little too enthusiastic, for which I apologise.’

‘I have observed their enthusiasm before; first in Genua and then again when I entered this valley,’ she responded.

Suidur regarded her with a smile. He turned to the warriors and spoke rapidly in their own language. They saluted him and took the horses away. He gestured to her to follow him, saying, ‘I have always thought that you had a sharp eye, lady.’

Inside the great hall, she found Lord Radoald in the company of an older man clad in rough homespun, with long grey hair and a bent figure. They both rose to their feet as Suidur led her in. As the elderly man rose, Fidelma’s quick eye saw that the stoop of his back had been feigned. She studied his features and a smile of satisfaction formed on her lips.

‘Well, Fidelma,’ greeted the young Lord of Trebbia. ‘We have been expecting you.’

‘Expecting me? Oh, I suppose your spies saw me leaving the abbey and coming this way. Is that why the warriors ambushed me?’

It was the man in rough homespun who replied. ‘We are engaged in a conflict of shadows, lady. We cannot afford to take chances.’

Radoald turned to the man and said, ‘This is—’

‘Aistulf.’ Fidelma smiled. ‘There is no need for you to play the bent, elderly hermit before me. You are a strange hermit, Aistulf. A player of the pipes, but one who speaks Latin and commands warriors. Why is it that you hide in the mountains and let your son rule in your place as Lord of Trebbia?’

It was Aistulf who finally broke the surprised silence that followed her question.

‘I think we have underestimated you, Fidelma of Hibernia,’ he said softly. ‘How did you know? You, a stranger? I have let no one, apart from Servillius and Gisa, see me close enough to identify me as the former Lord of Trebbia. My household has been sworn to secrecy. How have I been betrayed?’

‘You have not been betrayed, Lord Billo. At least, not so far as I am concerned,’ replied Fidelma. ‘It was a matter of logic, confirmed by the fact that I overheard you on the mountain when Suidur was bringing us back into the Trebbia Valley. You thought me asleep. When you said that you would speak to your son, it was obvious. It is known that Lord Billo and his son Radoald went to fight for Grimoald. Radoald came back from the wars and was proclaimed Lord of Trebbia. At the same time, a new person came to the valley, a recluse, Aistulf. It was easy to draw the conclusion.’

‘I came back after the wars against Perctarit seeking peace but knowing there were many things which might prevent it. I gave up my domain to my son, Radoald, changed my name and set out to live in the peace of this valley. I wanted to end my days without seeing another man, woman or child stained with blood, and hearing the cries of the wounded and dying. That is why I lived as I did. My son is now Lord of Trebbia. But unfortunately, death has followed me into this valley and now I must help to repel it. My son remains Lord of Trebbia, and if we bring this matter to a successful conclusion I will go back to being Aistulf the hermit, for that is all I want.’

Radoald signalled a servant to come forward with a flagon and goblets. ‘Be seated and refresh yourself,’ he invited Fidelma.

Fidelma had long practised the philosophy that when one was faced with no alternative it was better to appear to accept the inevitable. She sat down and accepted the goblet but asked for nothing more potent than the rich, cold water from a mountain spring.

‘So why were you expecting me?’ she asked, turning to Aistulf.

‘We were expecting you because my dear friend, Servillius, said he would send you here,’ Aistulf said. ‘Did he not explain that he thought you could be of service?’

‘Abbot Servillius was murdered last night,’ she announced flatly.

The brief silence that followed her statement was ended by a sharp intake of breath. Standing at the doorway was Sister Gisa. Fidelma felt a momentary satisfaction. At least she had not been wrong in her suspicion that she would find the girl at Radoald’s fortress. Sister Gisa had run to Suidur, who was comforting her.

‘I also heard that you found Lady Gunora’s body,’ Aistulf said quietly. ‘I had not realised, when I played the lament, that it was also for my poor friend. I thought it was for Gunora.’

‘Brother Bladulf had not returned from the mountain with her body. You played the lament not only for Servillius but also for Hawisa and Brother Eolann.’

Aistulf’s eyes widened in horror. ‘So many deaths?’

‘We heard of Hawisa’s death from Wulfoald, but—’ began Radoald.

‘You had better tell us how this came about, lady,’ intervened Aistulf.

Fidelma told them what she knew.

‘Let me get this correct,’ Aistulf said at the end of her recital. ‘Wulfoald left you at the abbey, having learned that Servillius had arrived back but had retired with orders not to be disturbed. You say that Venerable Ionas and you went to see Servillius but found him dead?’

‘Essentially correct.’

‘So you never saw Servillius and he never explained why you should come here?’

‘What was he supposed to tell me?’ she countered.

‘Among other things, he was supposed to tell you that we were expecting you and Wulfoald to return here. Wulfoald told us that he had not seen Servillius and received no such message.’

Fidelma compressed her lips. ‘He had no opportunity to see him. I was too concerned in following a wrong trail laid by Brother Eolann, and so when I went back to the abbey, I went to talk with Venerable Ionas and told him what I thought was happening. I was foolishly misled. When Venerable Ionas and I went to see the abbot, having wasted time, we found he had been killed almost as soon as he returned to the abbey.’

‘So, if it was not the message we sent you with Servillius, what led you here this morning?’ Suidur asked sharply.

Fidelma ignored the question. Instead she asked: ‘I presume that Prince Romuald is safe here?’

Radoald leaned forward in surprise. ‘How could you possibly know that he is here?’

‘That’s simple. Abbot Servillius said that Lady Gunora and the prince left the abbey before first light to reach this fortress. I found Lady Gunora’s body, as you know. The boy was missing. However, Wulfoald, when I told him that Lady Gunora’s body had been found, was not concerned about the prince. He simply rebuked me for not informing him sooner.’

‘What did that tell you?’ Aistulf was interested.

‘That it was only Lady Gunora who had been missing. It meant Prince Romuald was safe here. That was confirmed by you, Aistulf.’

‘By me?’ he asked wonderingly.

‘When I overheard you on the mountain, saying, “If the boy is right, Lady Gunora must be dead.” So what did the boy tell you?’

‘What do you think happened?’ countered Radoald.

‘That Lady Gunora and the boy did not leave the abbey unobserved. I believe they were followed. They had one horse. Lady Gunora may have noticed and told the boy to dismount and hide while she tried to draw off the pursuit. She succeeded so far as the boy was concerned. But she was overtaken and slain.’

A silence followed and then Aistulf nodded slowly. ‘You are right, lady, so far as the boy is concerned. Wulfoald found him wandering along the river early that morning. The prince told him that Lady Gunora had turned back towards the abbey, having instructed him to hide. She told him that, if she did not return, to go to the fortress of my son, Radoald, and on no account return to the abbey.’

‘So Lady Gunora tried to draw off the pursuers across Mount Pénas?’ mused Fidelma. ‘Poor lady. She sacrificed herself. But the boy is safe?’

‘Even as you said,’ agreed Suidur.

‘There is one thing that might interest you, lady,’ Aistulf added. ‘The prince, while hiding, caught sight of their pursuer. There was, in fact, only one. My son gave us the same description which Odo gave to Wulfoald and yourself. It was the same as that of the person seen leaving the vicinity of Hawisa’s cabin at the time of the fire.’

‘A man on a pale horse?’

‘And the prince also insists that the rider of the pale horse was a warrior.’

Fidelma was quiet for a while. ‘Now tell me why you wanted me to be here?’

Aistulf said, ‘My friend, Servillius, thought you could be trusted.’ Then he looked around at the others. ‘It will come as no surprise to you that we are supporters of King Grimoald.’ When Fidelma did not respond, he went on: ‘It would seem that you have little interest in the war that is erupting now. It is that war which is our concern – the attempt of Perctarit, with those who remain loyal to him and his Frankish allies, to return to the throne of the Longobards.’

‘As you say, the politics of the matter should be of little concern to me, for this is not my country,’ replied Fidelma.

‘True enough. That being so, why did you leap to defend Magister Ado in Genua when the warriors of King Grimoald tried to capture him?’ Aistulf observed.

‘Merely chance. I saw two men assaulting an elderly cleric in a back street. When we entered this valley, these same men tried to assassinate him from behind the shelter of trees and bushes.’

‘If it had not been for your shout of warning,’ intervened Sister Gisa resentfully, ‘they would not have missed their target and hit Brother Faro.’

‘It is one of the matters I need clarification on. The would-be assassins were dressed as your King’s men and therefore your allies. Can it be that you would applaud the assassination of an elderly cleric of such outstanding scholarship as Magister Ado – simply as part of your cause?’

‘He was considered an agent of Perctarit,’ Sister Gisa declared, thrusting her chin out aggressively. ‘An enemy to King Grimoald. You saved him from being captured by the two men that Grimoald sent to question him.’

Aistulf pulled a face. ‘Unfortunately, they were not the brightest of minds, as you have discovered. Having failed to take him prisoner, they took it on themselves that if they could not capture him, then the next best thing was to kill him.’

‘They wounded Brother Faro instead,’ repeated Sister Gisa.

‘So, after the failed assassination,’ Fidelma said thoughtfully, ‘these two warriors came here to this fortress to report. I saw you, Suidur, with Gisa rebuking them.’

‘How …?’ began Radoald.

‘Courtyards are not the best place to discuss matters even in the dark of the night, especially when there is a moon.’

‘But you do not speak the language of the Longobards,’ Suidir pointed out. ‘How do you know what went on?’

‘Perhaps you will recall rebuking Sister Gisa for her lapse into Latin?’

There was a silence and Suidur finally said, ‘I did so. Grimoald’s men were told that no more attacks should be made on the person of Magister Ado. He should be allowed freedom to see if he could lead us to the gold,’ continued Aistulf. ‘Give him enough rope to hang himself, as the saying goes.’

‘And if he were not Perctarit’s agent?’ Fidelma sighed. ‘I am surprised, Suidur, that you have not taught your daughter the importance of evidence
coram judice
.’

Sister Gisa stared in astonishment but the physician actually smiled. ‘You do have a sharp mind, lady,’ he acknowledged.

‘I presumed that she is your daughter from the fact of her knowledge of the healing arts, that she was raised in this valley and it was said her father was a physician.’