Behold a Pale Horse (45 page)

‘Because, having confronted Wulfoald, who I wrongly thought had been lying to me, I asked Brother Eolann to come and bear witness when I went with Wulfoald to see Hawisa. Brother Eolann told the other conspirators. He was advised to stage a fall so that he could not accompany us and be found to be a liar. At the same time, to ensure the truth did not come out, one of them went by night to Hawisa’s cabin. He killed the old woman, and set fire to the cabin.’

‘The rider on the pale horse?’ queried Wulfoald.

‘Indeed. A pale horse just like your horse. When Brother Eolann learned this, it was his turn to make a mistake. He was responsible for condemning Abbot Servillius.’

‘How?’ demanded Wulfoald. ‘True, the abbot was at Hawisa’s cabin that day to offer some compensation for the coin Wamba brought to the abbey, but the abbot would not know any more about the conspiracy when confronted by Brother Eolann’s mistranslation.’

‘When we were looking for Brother Eolann, Venerable Ionas said, “I have not seen him since he said he was going to the abbot to make confession”. Venerable Ionas, not knowing the circumstances, thought he meant the usual confession which is part of the custom here. But Brother Eolann’s confession was of the part he had played in this conspiracy, because that voice of conscience was hard to stifle in him even for his belief. Whether he told his fellow plotter or whether that person overheard the confession, both men were condemned to die.’

‘So Abbot Servillius and Brother Eolann were killed by the same person?’

‘That is my assessment,’ confirmed Fidelma. ‘Wulfoald has just informed us that there is now movement. I believe that the agents of Perctarit are about to hand over the gold to Grasulf and that he will soon make a descent on this valley with his men.’

‘My sentinels have already reported that Grasulf’s men have been arming and moving along the Staffel River,’ Wulfoald confirmed.

‘It means that Perctarit’s army is ready to move from Mailand to meet Grimoald.’ Aistulf’s expression was grim.

‘Importantly for us, it means Grasulf is heading into this valley,’ Wulfoald responded.

‘That is true.’ Fidelma gave a weary nod. ‘The gold is at the abbey where the agent of Perctarit hid it. Venerable Ionas and I saw it in its hiding place.’

‘In the abbey? Are you sure?’ Aistulf demanded.

‘It was hidden in the necropolis – in the new tomb being built for the Abbot Bobolen.’

Sister Gisa’s face had suddenly paled. She was staring at Fidelma with wide, bright eyes.

‘Poor Brother Ruadán tried to tell me where he had found the gold,’ went on Fidelma. ‘He mentioned about evil being disguised in a mausoleum. I thought he meant something about corpses. He meant that it was where he had found gold coins. Maybe they had been dropped outside when the wagon was being put into the tomb. Something made him check inside. The wagon had obviously been brought there during the building of the sepulchre, disguised as one of the wagons filled with marble.’

‘Did no one notice it being placed there?’ demanded Radoald. ‘What of the workmen?’

‘They were undoubtedly Perctarit’s men,’ Fidelma pointed out.

‘But a member of the abbey was in charge,’ Wulfoald observed quietly. ‘And it was not Brother Eolann.’

‘That person was Perctarit’s chief agent. The person overseeing the building of the mausoleum for the abbots was …’

Wulfoald seemed the only one who did not express astonishment. ‘Everyone knew he was in charge of the building of the tombs. Didn’t he complete Abbot Bobolen’s tomb just before you left for Genua to meet Magister Ado?’

‘I refuse to believe it. I
will
not believe it,’ sobbed the girl.

‘He told us that he had been a warrior during the war between Perctarit and Grimoald,’ Fidelma gently reminded her. ‘A little investigation might have shown that he had served in Perctarit’s army. He came to Bobium two years ago after Perctarit’s exile, about the same time as Brother Eolann came from Mailand. Not only was he supervisor of the building of the mausoleums, but Sister Gisa told me that he had suggested the design of Bobolen’s tomb and secured the workmen to raise it.’

‘A charitable work …’ Sister Gisa began.

‘Not so. His workmen were also Perctarit’s men, and it was there that the gold was brought under cover of the building work. It was stored to await the day when Perctarit was ready to make his move. Even worse, Faro is undoubtedly the man on the pale horse who pursued and slew Lady Gunora and would have done the same to Prince Romuald. He was the same person who was seen, still in his religieux robes, stealing Wamba’s box from the cairn put up by Hawisa. He climbed down, but someone saw him and he dropped the box, which I later found. He had left his horse on the track below. It was the same breed and colour that I have seen Faro ride. The person who witnessed this event has not been seen recently. Let us hope there is not another death to be accounted to him.’

‘You claim that he also killed the old woman, Hawisa, and set fire to her cabin?’

‘I do.’

‘Are you saying that Faro killed the boy, Wamba, Brother Eolann and Abbot Servillius?’ asked Aistulf.

Fidelma shook her head. ‘He might have killed Wamba – I am sure he did. But I believe there was a third conspirator. Of his identity I have a good idea but cannot say for certain. I believe I can do so only when I return to the abbey. The immediate problem is to safeguard the abbey and the gold from Grasulf’s attack.’

Sister Gisa was still sobbing softly.

‘You must face the facts, daughter,’ Suidur said gently as he placed an arm around her shoulders.

‘I will not believe it until Faro tells me directly,’ cried the girl through her tears.

Fidelma regarded her sympathetically. ‘If it is any consolation, I think he does care for you. Last night he warned me to leave the valley and, if I saw you, to give you that warning as well. He said the storm was coming.’

‘That storm might come sooner than anyone thinks,’ Wulfoald observed dryly.

‘I agree,’ Fidelma said. ‘I believe Grasulf will attack either today or tomorrow.’

‘Then we must protect the abbey and retrieve the gold at once,’ Radoald declared, rising from his seat.

As the others followed his example, Fidelma added: ‘I am now certain that Grasulf will have been informed that the gold is at the abbey and he is on the way to seize it. We must ride back and warn the brethren.’

‘It will take me a while to gather sufficient warriors,’ Radoald said with a frown.

‘We have Grimoald’s two warriors and four of my men who are good bowmen. I could take them and accompany Fidelma,’ Wulfoald suggested. ‘The abbey can be defended. We might be able to hold off any attempt to take the gold until you gather the rest of the men.’

‘I’ll come with you,’ Aistulf announced with enthusiasm. ‘
Fortes fortuna iuvat
.’ Fortune helps the brave.

‘I thought you had renounced warfare?’ Radoald said to his father.

‘There comes a time when one cannot stand by with indifference. This is as much my valley and my people that Grasulf is attacking,’ replied Aistulf. ‘Have no fear, my son, you remain Lord of Trebbia. I am merely a hermit but I have a right to fight for the peace of this valley as much as anyone.’

Sister Gisa also insisted on accompanying them in spite of her distressed state. Wulfoald, with Grimoald’s two black-cloaked warriors, rode ahead with Fidelma and Sister Gisa followed, then four more warriors came behind them with Aistulf at their head. They rode purposefully, without talking. Fidelma was worried. Her mind was still running over all the evidence, since in spite of her assurance of Faro’s guilt and Brother Eolann’s complicity, there was a nagging in her mind about the identity of the third conspirator. She suspected who it was but could not be sure. There was something that she was missing.

It was late afternoon when they finally crossed the humpback bridge. Another of Wulfoald’s warriors had appeared, riding towards them from the direction of Travo. He met them by the bridge. The exchange was rapid and brief.

‘Grasulf and his warriors have already crossed into the valley downstream and are heading in this direction,’ Wulfoald shouted to Fidelma. ‘We have little time to alert the abbey and township.’

The party did not delay but crossed the bridge and galloped up to the gates of the abbey. Brother Bladulf had apparently returned from Mount Pénas, for it was he who opened the gates. Venerable Ionas and Magister Ado were already in the courtyard and came hurrying across to greet them.

‘You are about to be attacked by Grasulf’s men in the name of Perctarit,’ shouted Wulfoald, as he swung down from his horse. ‘I would gather as many people into the abbey as you can for safety, then shut the gates and be ready to receive them.’

Venerable Ionas was about to ask a question when his eyes alighted on Aistulf. He was shocked.

‘My lord Billo,’ he began. ‘What—?’

Aistulf brushed him aside. ‘Explanations can come later. You have no time before Grasulf attacks.’

‘It is so,’ Fidelma said. ‘Brother Faro is behind this conspiracy. Is he here?’

‘He has not returned since this morning,’ gasped Magister Ado. ‘I cannot believe it.’

‘There is no time to debate the matter,’ Fidelma snapped. ‘You must prepare.’

Wulfoald was already ordering his warriors to take positions on the walls above the gates of the abbey.

‘We cannot fight against Grasulf,’ Magister Ado protested. ‘This is a House of God, of peace. Our brethren are sworn to peace.’

‘We will do the fighting for you,’ Wulfoald said tersely. ‘Just pray for us.’

Venerable Ionas stared at them in dismay. ‘How can we defend ourselves with just these few warriors?’ he demanded.

‘Lord Radoald is coming with a larger force,’ replied Wulfoald. ‘They should be here soon. Please, sound the alarm bell of the abbey before it is too late.’

Brother Bladulf was waiting nervously, but when the order was relayed to him, he went to the watch-tower and, untying a rope, began the warning peal on the abbey bell. The courtyard became a sea of confused figures, with members of the brethren running this way and that. Sister Gisa had ridden off to the house of women in the township to rouse the Sisters who, with others, began flooding towards the abbey gates, some of them even herding their livestock with them. Magister Ado had become galvanised into action as he saw the panic of the brethren and the people. He was shouting instructions, trying to make himself heard, commanding, explaining, and trying to create some order in the confusion.

Fidelma now turned towards the pale, anxious figure of Venerable Ionas.

‘Did you do as I asked?’ she said.

He was distracted and she had to ask again before he confirmed it.

‘It is all moved and the lock secured again?’ she pressed.

‘It was done exactly as you suggested.’

‘And no one else has been informed?’

‘No one saw us and I swore those who helped to silence, as you told me.’

The panicking townsfolk, including members of the female community, were now pushing in through the gates. Above the cacophony they heard the discordant sounds of war horns blasting, harsh and angry, further down the valley.

‘The attack!’ cried Venerable Ionas. ‘We are lost!’

‘We are not!’ came the sharp tones of Wulfoald. ‘We must hold here until Radoald arrives. The gates must be shut at once.’

Venerable Ionas stared at him for a moment. There were still people struggling to get through the gates, some with squawking chickens, others dragging goats or hauling reluctant pigs. For a moment Fidelma thought the elderly scholar would refuse the order, but then it seemed he realised there was no other choice. With his mouth drawn into a grim line he seized a passing member of the brethren. It was the fat cook, Brother Waldipert.

‘Shut the gates. Go, get others and help Brother Bladulf. Tell those who cannot get into the abbey to run and hide as best they can. We can’t shelter everyone. The gates must be shut now!’ While the cook hurried off on his errand, calling on some of the passing brethren to follow him to the gate, Venerable Ionas joined Magister Ado in trying to organise the brethren, getting the horses into the stable.