The Dove of Death (27 page)

‘Calm yourself,’ replied Bleidbara. ‘The mob won’t get into this fortress. Anyway, Barbatil has given his word.’ The young warrior hurried from the great hall. He was back within minutes.

‘It is Riwanon and Budic. They looked distressed.’

Within a short time, the Queen had entered, followed by Budic. Riwanon made for a chair and slumped into it, breathing heavily. She was dishevelled and covered in dust. There was a
tear in Budic’s cloak, blood on his face, although there did not seem to be an obvious wound. He, too, was covered in dust.

Fidelma immediately poured wine for them. All present waited in silence, no one asking the obvious question. Riwanon did not speak until she had gulped several mouthfuls of wine.

‘We were attacked,’ she announced flatly.

‘Attacked? What – by the mob?’ demanded Trifina.

‘Where and by whom?’ asked Fidelma more cautiously.

‘Make sure the gates of the fortress are secured,’ Budic, having recovered himself, ordered Bleidbara. ‘They were riding close after us.’

Bleidbara went to ensure that the gates were firmly shut and that a watch was kept on the highway.

By now, Riwanon had calmed down a little.

‘We were nearing the little oratory, which I wanted to visit. I was riding in front with Budic, going through a stretch of forest. All I knew was that there was a cry and glancing behind I saw two of our men had fallen with arrows in them. Dead, I think. I heard Ceingar give a scream. Budic whipped my horse and we bounded forward. Only Budic and I escaped. He saved my life, yelling for me to ride as I have never ridden before. I am sure that they are pursuing close behind.’ She shuddered, before asking, ‘Are the gates closed?’

‘You are safe now in the fortress of Brilhag,’ asserted Trifina coldly.

Riwanon ignored her, looking directly at Fidelma and saying, ‘I need your assurance, Fidelma of Hibernia, that I am safe.’

Fidelma stared at her in astonishment, as there was a sharp intake of breath from Trifina.

‘Do you doubt it?’ Fidelma asked incredulously. For the implication was surely a direct insult to her hosts.

‘I ask it because I glimpsed one of our attackers – and he held a banner in his hand,’ said the Queen.

It was Budic who added grimly, ‘The banner belonged to the
mac’htiern
of Brilhag. We cannot deny the evidence of our own eyes.’

Bleidbara had just returned and overheard what Budic had said.

‘So you think that it was my men who attacked you?’ he said quietly. ‘We have had better things to do this day.’

‘Riwanon, there seems some conspiracy to bring discredit on the family of the lord of Brilhag,’ Fidelma intervened as Budic was about to respond. ‘We do not know the details, but we believe that whoever attacks under this flag is not connected with your husband’s friend.’ She turned to Budic. ‘How many were in this attacking party?’

‘Perhaps half-a-dozen, maybe even a dozen,’ replied Budic hesitantly. ‘We did not see them all.’

‘And you had two warriors and yourself in the party?’

‘The attack came by stealth. My men were shot down from behind the trees and bushes.’

‘And yet one of the ambushers came forward with this banner, thus ensuring that they might be identified? Did you not think that strange?’

‘Strange?’ Budic frowned.

‘To go to such lengths to ambush you, shooting from behind with the intention of killing you all, but then coming forward that you might identify them. I believe that is why you were allowed to survive.’

‘I only glimpsed the banner over my shoulder as Budic whipped up my horse,’ replied Riwanon thoughtfully. ‘Perhaps they emerged to give chase to us?’

Fidelma turned to Trifina. ‘I suggest that Bleidbara take some men and see if he can track these attackers. At least, he can recover the bodies of Riwanon’s maid and guards.’

‘You want Bleidbara and his men to leave the fortress now – when we might be attacked?’ Trifina was astonished.

‘But that will be dangerous!’ cried Riwanon in agreement.

Fidelma smiled at them both.

‘I am sure that these ruffians will not launch an attack here.’ She turned to Eadulf with an apologetic smile. ‘I would like you to accompany Bleidbara and his men. I need your expert eyes, for you know what it is I would like to see. However, I feel that I must remain here for the moment.’

Eadulf looked carefully at her. ‘I do not understand,’ he said. ‘Why is it you want me to go?’

‘
Stet pro ratione voluntas
,’ she whispered, glancing at the company. Let my will stand as a reason. Then she added quickly in their common language: ‘I don’t want to prejudice you by saying what I think you will find – just observe and report directly back to me. I do not think you will be in any danger.’

‘Very well,’ he replied.

‘I am willing to go, lady,’ Bleidbara now stated. ‘If it means finding out who is behind these attacks.’

‘Bleidbara is a capable warrior,’ Trifina said, ‘but your request places him and your husband in danger.’

‘I disagree, lady. The raiders only attack when the odds are in their favour. I am hoping that Bleidbara might be able to track them to their lair, wherever that is.’

‘Then I should go with them,’ Budic announced, apparently feeling that his reputation as a warrior was in question.

‘As commander of the Queen’s bodyguard, your place is here with her,’ Fidelma pointed out.

‘Where is it that this ambush took place?’ asked Bleidbara.

Budic hesitated, as if trying to recall the exact location. ‘It was along the track, just south of the oratory.’

‘A good place for an ambush, as the road passes through a heavily wooded area. I know it well. We shall proceed carefully. I shall take six men, for it will be best to leave the others here, to prepare for all contingencies. I’ll take Boric the Stout
for he is not only a good warrior but the best tracker we have. I hope your optimism that the attackers have fled is not proved wrong, lady.’

‘I would not like to be responsible for sending these men into danger unnecessarily,’ Riwanon said, looking distraught.

‘Be reassured, lady.’ Fidelma’s voice was earnest. ‘There is necessity to this. And I do not believe there is any danger for them.’

Only Eadulf seemed to pick up a hidden meaning in her words.

Every so often, Boric halted the group of riders and slid from his horse, peering at the tracks that they were following. They were some way from Brilhag by now, and he had examined the tracks several times already.

‘I can see signs of two horses heading for Brilhag, but no sign that they were being followed at this point, certainly not along this track,’ he told Bleidbara.

Bleidbara glanced at Eadulf.

‘So Riwanon was mistaken when she thought they were chased to the gates of Brilhag,’ Eadulf said.

‘There is one other thing,’ Boric added. ‘At this point, the tracks indicate that the two horses were proceeding at no more than a walking pace. So they must have realised, at this point, that they were
not
being followed.’

‘Are you sure?’ Bleidbara frowned. ‘Maybe these are the wrong tracks. When they arrived at Brilhag, they came at a gallop.’

The stocky tracker shook his head. ‘The horses were certainly not galloping here. I’d stake my sword on it.’

‘We will continue – but with caution,’ decided Bleidbara. ‘Keep an eye on the tracks, Boric.’

‘How far to this oratory?’ asked Eadulf as they set off again.

‘We are fairly close now. It is towards the north-east, along
the shore of the Morbihan. There are some farmsteads in this area. They are well away from the main course of this track, more towards the south.’

‘Then we should be coming to the bodies of Riwanon’s companions soon,’ Eadulf deduced.

From time to time, Boric had halted and dismounted to check the tracks but he had found no sign of anything untoward until they came to a track that intersected the one they were following. Here he reported that several horses had halted for a little while, for the ground was churned by their hooves.

‘I can see that two horses have left the main group here. They are going back to Brilhag.’

‘Are you sure?’ Bleidbara asked.

‘I can only report what I see on the ground,’ replied Boric stoically. ‘Shall we continue on?’

Bleidbara gestured assent.

Eadulf was thoughtful, still wondering why Fidelma had made him come along. Was there something she already knew or suspected?

After another period had passed, Bleidbara pointed through the trees on their left, north of their position.

‘Those are the waters of Morbihan and the oratory is nearby.’

Eadulf followed his quick gesture and saw waters glistening beyond the trees.

‘Well, one thing is for sure,’ Bleidbara said. ‘The raiders are long gone from this area and certainly did not maintain their pursuit of Riwanon and Budic after they had ambushed them.’

‘That might be so,’ Eadulf agreed as he looked around. ‘However, we haven’t yet come to the spot where the ambush took place.’

‘True enough,’ the other man agreed. ‘We ought by now to have come across the bodies of those warriors who fell and, of
course, the girl, Ceingar. The attack was probably closer to the oratory than Riwanon allowed. We’ll continue on…’

He paused, for the stout tracker was standing still. He was sniffing the air suspiciously.

‘I smell a fire,’ he announced.

They could all smell it now. Boric silently pointed to the south, away from Morbihan. There was a gap in the canopy of leafy branches that showed clear sky and something else. A column of black smoke was rising and drifting against the blue.

‘A forest fire?’ demanded Eadulf, looking at it and then glancing at the tall trees on either side of the track that suddenly seemed to grow menacingly around them.

‘I don’t think so,’ Bleidbara replied quietly. ‘That is a man-made fire.’

Boric remounted. ‘I’ll ride on ahead,’ he called over his shoulder as he urged his horse forward at a canter.

Bleidbara signalled his band to follow carefully. The smell of burning wood became stronger.

‘There is a farmstead beyond that hill,’ he said to Eadulf. ‘Perhaps the farmer is burning his fields. It’s that time of year.’

Eadulf vaguely knew that some farmers burned corn stubble in their fields on alternate years to ensure more fertile ground. It was a practice that, not being a farmer, he did not really understand.

‘Why are you sure it is not a forest fire?’ he enquired.

Bleidbara grinned. ‘When you have lived in a forest you begin to develop a feeling, an instinct, and you also develop your eyes for such things.’

They found a small fork in the track that meandered off to the right and ascended a sloping area of ground. Boric was still ahead of them. The trees began to thin a little and suddenly they saw him halt his horse at the top of the rise. He did not turn round but held up his hand as if to stay their advance.

They came up carefully behind him and halted.

Some cultivated fields stretched before them, leading down to a stream, which ran snake-like through their middle. But it was not these that were on fire. On the far side of the fields were what seemed to have been a log-built farmhouse and some outbuildings. It was these that were on fire.

A group of people were milling about, some trying to form a human chain to the stream, along which they passed pails of water in a fruitless attempt to douse the flames. Some bodies were laid out nearby.

Eadulf tried to focus on the scene to discern its cause.

There was a sudden shout of warning from the people below. One of them was pointing up the hill towards them. Some grabbed for weapons. It was clear that their group had been spotted and identified as a potential threat.

Bleidbara began to ride slowly forward while Eadulf and the others followed a short distance behind.

As they grew close, Eadulf saw that those trying to put out the flames were reforming in defensive positions. They were those same sturdy farmers who had gathered to attack the abbey on the previous day. He could tell by their clothing and curious agricultural weaponry. He recognised the small man, what was his name? Coric! Coric – the friend of Barbatil, the father of the murdered Argantken.

They were halfway across the field when Bleidbara halted and called to Coric. It was in retrospect that Bleidbara interpreted the shouted conversation to Eadulf.

‘Coric! It is I, Bleidbara. We are friends!’ he cried.

‘You come under the banner of Brilhag,’ replied the little man. ‘That is no sign of friendship – after this.’ He gestured around him.

‘What do you mean?’

‘A group of your warriors attacked this farmstead, slaughtered
old Goustan the farmer and his family and set fire to it. How should we welcome you as friends?’

‘No warriors of mine did this, Coric. We have come from Brilhag in search of the brigands who ambushed Queen Riwanon this morning. Two of her warriors were slain, and her maid.’

Coric stood uncertainly. ‘How can we know that you tell the truth?’

‘I am Bleidbara. I grew up among you. My word is my honour.’

‘I cannot accept the word of anyone who serves Brilhag after this day. Warriors have attacked us poor farmers too many times. But today, today marks an end of it. We will fight back. So I warn you, Bleidbara, stay back!’

‘They may be using the banner of Brilhag, but that does not mean they are
of
Brilhag,’ responded the warrior.

‘So you say. We will choose our own counsel.’

Bleidbara was losing patience. ‘Just tell us what happened and which way these raiders have gone?’

There was a pause, then Coric’s surly voice answered, ‘We saw smoke rising and, as several of our farmsteads had been attacked before, we came in a body to see what was happening. From the rise there, we saw half-a-dozen men loading booty on their horses. The cabin was already blazing. Old Goustan was still alive, we saw him arguing with the looters. Then one of them, perhaps the leader, simply drew his sword and cut him down. There was a scream and we saw Goustan’s wife and child run from behind one of the huts. They did not reach him. Their bodies lie there.’