The Dove of Death (35 page)

‘Yet the act was done under your emblem,’ Fidelma pointed out. ‘We must, therefore, ask – why?’

The
mac’htiern
frowned in annoyance.

‘Why would I, or any of my family, attack and despoil those very people who exist under the protection of Brilhag? I am their chieftain. They look to me and mine for their wellbeing. Our existence is symbiotic. I cannot exist without them nor they without me. Will there be honey if the queen bee should turn and kill the worker bees?’

As eloquent as this was, his words provoked some angry murmuring from Barbatil and his comrades.

‘We are here to bring Macliau to justice,’ cried Barbatil, ‘not Lord Canao. If the father won’t admit responsibility then his son must accept the evidence of his guilt.’

Fidelma ignored the cries of support for the farmer.

‘Lord Canao has asked a good question. And now, I will answer it. These attacks started when those responsible for them learned that Alain Hir, King of the Bretons, was coming as guest to Brilhag. To what end were all these senseless attacks directed? The lady Trifina has provided the answer. Trifina, what was your response?’

Trifina hesitated and then rose uncertainly.

‘I told you that someone was out to destroy the reputation of my family,’ she said. ‘I believed that the person using the banner of my family did so as a ruse, to bring disgrace on us.’

‘Just so’ agreed Fidelma mildly. ‘But for what end? Just to bring disgrace on a family is not a strong enough motive in itself to go to such murderous lengths. Murder is not an end in itself. There must surely be something more.’

‘What more could there be?’ Lord Canao bent forward and asked. ‘My daughter has given you good reason and has
suffered because of it. Bleidbara has brought back half-a-dozen prisoners from his encounter with the
Koulm ar Maro
– they must be made to confess who their leader was. Confess if there was anyone else in conspiracy with them.’

‘The truth is that they do not know,’ Fidelma replied. ‘They are mercenaries. Their captain, a man called Taran from Pou-Kaer, was the only one to have direct dealings with the person who organised them. They were paid from the booty they took, but they never saw their real leader unmasked. Perhaps Taran could have identified the real Dove of Death, but he lies at the bottom of the Morbihan.’

‘It is true, Lord Canao,’ called Bleidbara. ‘They might be willing to talk to save their lives by confession, but they do not know what to confess.’

‘I will come to the identity of the leader in a moment,’ Fidelma said confidently. ‘But firstly I will tell you the reason why this has taken place.’ She allowed a few seconds to pass; the great hall was completely silent. ‘The lady Trifina was right. This “Dove of Death” as this person became known, was using the emblem of Brilhag for a purpose. However, it was not merely to bring disgrace to this family – but to bring
blame.
’

‘Blame?’ enquired King Alain, showing bewilderment. ‘Blame for what?’

‘Your death.’

Fidelma waited until the wave of incredulous voices began to recede.

‘These attacks started and built up so that people would already be in the frame of mind to hate and mistrust Brilhag. Who else would they blame if the King of the Bretons, arriving on a visit to Brilhag, were to be assassinated? Assassinated in such a way that the Dove of Death was blamed? The family are descended from the kings of Bro-Waroch, and some believe that they have long had a grudge against the house of Judicael,
whose son is Alain Hir. Who would question their motive? Macliau, himself, bemoaned the loss of the kingship of Bro-Waroch to Domnonia, and boasted that he wanted to retrieve the ancient rights of his family.’

Lord Canao cast a look of dismay at his son. Macliau sat white-faced, staring unseeingly at his feet. It was as if he had withdrawn into himself.

‘So
he
is guilty!
He
is the Dove of Death!’ shouted Barbatil.

Alain Hir was grave and thoughtful.

‘You seem to have gathered a lot of information in your investigation, Fidelma of Hibernia,’ he said.

‘My old mentor in law in Hibernia, the Brehon Morann, used to say that once you have a motive you will be led to the culprit. I am afraid that in this instance he was wrong. The motive was to kill you and place the blame on the family who might have claimed this kingdom on your death. But if that family were not guilty of the assassination…who else could possibly benefit from such events as have occurred here?’

‘You mean, a beneficiary other than the house of Brilhag?’

‘Exactly. As a Roman lawyer, Cicero, once argued before a judge –
cui bono
? Who stands to gain? That is the basis of this matter. Curiously enough, a short time before his death, my Cousin Bressal and I were speaking of the very motivation behind the assassination of a king or chieftain, and of our concerns for the wellbeing of our own High King. From the attack on our ship, we have made a long journey through many dark minds, but now all shall be revealed.’

‘Let us confine ourselves to the accusation that Macliau killed his mistress Argantken and is, in fact, the Dove of Death,’ demanded the
bretat
Kaourentin. ‘That is why this hearing has been called and that should be the first thing we do.’

An expectant murmur ran through the audience.

‘We cannot confine ourselves to that alone,’ retorted Fidelma.
‘However, let us put Macliau out of his misery. He was not guilty of Argantken’s murder any more than he was responsible for the outrages that have been committed under the flag of Brilhag. He was a victim of the Dove of Death, a victim of another outrage which would make people think that Brilhag was responsible. And when the last of these actions, the assassination of the King and his replacement, would occur, everyone would blame the family of Brilhag, so that the person responsible could be swept to the kingship on an hysterical wave of support.’

It was some moments before the hubbub died away.

For the first time Macliau raised his head and an expression of hope crossed his features.

Fidelma glanced at him with a satisfied smile.

‘I discounted Macliau’s involvement on several grounds. Primarily, while, with the right motive, we are probably all capable of killing someone, what motive did he have for killing Argantken? Macliau loves the good life. He loves wine and women. He is no warrior. He confessed as much to us when we arrived here. Importantly, he would never have killed his dog Albiorix. I think he loved that dog perhaps more than he did the women in his life. No, it is impossible to see Macliau in the role of the
Koulm ar Maro
. The Dove of Death is vicious, a ruthless killer with a fixed ambition – not the sort of person who would fall into a drunken stupor next to their newly killed victim and their pet dog. Finally, how would Macliau have succeeded as King? Even his sister, Trifina, and others have pointed out that he did not have the support to succeed as lord of Brilhag, let alone King. I am told the Bretons still adhere to choosing the most capable member of the bloodline, male or even female.’

‘If not Macliau then who…?’ began Lord Canao.

‘I can now name the person who gave direct orders to Taran:
the pirate who, dressed all in white and wearing a mask, even went on some of their murderous raids and enjoyed the killing as much as those they led. The person who killed my Cousin Bressal and the captain of the
Barnacle Goose
was – Iuna.’

There was a thunderous noise of incredulity and surprise through the hall. Trifina turned from her seat with shocked features.

‘You must be jesting! Iuna, our stewardess?’ she cried over the hubbub.

Fidelma was calm.

‘Iuna was the person who actually led some of the raids. She is a ruthless and ambitious young woman. It was Aourken who first told me about that ambition. Her parents had been killed and she had been fostered by the lord of Brilhag.’

‘But she was content simply to be our domestic…’ began Lord Canao. ‘She was my foster-daughter. She had no ambition.’

‘On the contrary, she had great ambition,’ interrupted Fidelma. ‘Iuna came from a noble family that dwelt in Brekilian. Iuna’s parents had been slain. You knew that when you took her into your household.’

Lord Canao raised his arms in a helpless gesture. It was King Alain who, sitting back, was shaking his head with a sad smile.

‘Unfortunately, Fidelma of Hibernia, in your accusation of Iuna, you are forgetting one thing. I knew Iuna’s father, since he fought at my side against the Frankish incursions. He was a great noble and a great warrior. But he was not of the bloodline of Domnonia or Bro-Waroch. If the motive was to assassinate me and blame it on Lord Canao’s family, in order that
she
could claim my throne, that would have been impossible.’

‘True,’ conceded Fidelma. ‘But I did not say that she was aiming to be the direct beneficiary of these murderous acts. She was acting for someone else, someone who would be the
beneficiary –
in the mistaken belief that she would then join him as his Queen
.’

‘But,’ replied King Alain, ‘if I died now, there is only…’

There was a sudden silence and then Fidelma spoke slowly and distinctly.

‘Yes. There is only your son by your first wife who is of the bloodline and would come to the throne without challenge. Budic would succeed you.’

Once again the rest of her words were drowned in the cacophony of voices throughout the great hall. Budic sat with a broad grin spreading over his features, shaking his head as if in disbelief.

Finally, Fidelma made herself heard again, speaking directly to King Alain.

‘I did not know that Budic was your son and possible heir until you confirmed it last night. I should have realised it before, when Abbot Maelcar arrived in answer to what he believed was a command from you as King. Abbot Maelcar asked Budic if he had sent the message on behalf of his father. Of course, Abbot Maelcar knew you were Budic’s father. Not picking up on that was a serious error on my behalf.’

Budic was actually laughing now.

‘And not the only one. You are accusing
me
of attempting to murder my own father?’ He turned to King Alain. ‘The woman is mad. When these attacks started to occur I can prove I was not even in this province.’

‘I am sure you can because you were working with Iuna, the Dove of Death.’

Budic gazed at Fidelma with a cynical smile. ‘You still have to prove all these accusations, and foreigner or not, a King’s sister or not, you will have to account for them.’ The vehemence in his voice belied the smile.

‘Silence!’ King Alain snapped. ‘This is not the place to make threats. Fidelma of Hibernia is under my protection and may
present her accusations here without fear. But I have to say that these same accusations are wild and unreasonable. You will have to present proof that Iuna and Budic are in such a conspiracy.’

‘Indeed,’ sneered Budic. ‘And where is Iuna? Will she come forward to confess this? I think not. And for what reason am I supposed to have killed Abbot Maelgar, the girl found with Macliau and heaven knows who else?’

‘Iuna killed Abbot Maelcar,’ went on Fidelma confidently. ‘The Abbot was from Brekilien and had been fostered in an abbey – I believe it is called Pempont. Next to it is the royal court. On a visit recently, he chanced on Iuna in a compromising position with Budic. He came back muttering about loose morality at the court – about a provincial servant fornicating with the King’s offspring. Aourken told me that. Alain has only one offspring. Abbot Maelcar considered Iuna a provincial servant. And Iuna let slip that Abbot Maelcar used to call her that as an insult. She also said he was a man who looked at women through cracks in curtains. She was about to tell me what had happened at Brekilien when she realised that it would incriminate her. Indeed, she realised that Abbot Maelcar could be witness to her relationship with Budic. That was why he was invited here and killed by her. She grew more vicious as the time for the fruition of the conspiracy grew close.’

During this recital, Riwanon had turned to regard Budic with an expression of distaste, but the young man was still sneering at Fidelma.

‘But I am told that Budic himself was nearly slain in an ambush by the followers of this Dove of Death,’ King Alain objected. ‘They attacked Riwanon and killed members of their escort. Budic saved her life.’

‘Explain that, foreigner!’ Budic taunted her.

‘The ambush was faked,’ answered Fidelma flatly.

Riwanon coloured and leaned forward, her cheeks aflame.

‘But I was there,’ she said. ‘Bleidbara and your companion went out after the attackers and found them, rescued my maid while she was being raped, and killed them. How was that a fake?’

‘I’ll tell you what really happened,’ Fidelma said. ‘Budic and yourself rode out with Ceingar, your maid, and two warriors. Budic needed such an event to enhance his position when the time came to present himself as a hero who had escaped death from the evil machinations of Brilhag. Iuna had arranged for one of the raiding parties from the
Koulm ar Maro
to meet up with Budic and his party. In fact, I suspect the two warriors who accompanied Budic were either part of the conspiracy or mercenaries from the
Koulm ar Maro
. I found it curious that Budic and Riwanon had decided to go to the oratory that morning when the countryside was in such uproar. When they returned to Brilhag with the story of two warriors and their maid dead or captured and their own miraculous escape, I became very suspicious.

‘What really happened was that the party had met up and then Riwanon and Budic had returned with their stories. Meanwhile, the two warriors and Ceingar had joined the others and even attacked a farmstead, killing a farmer and his family.

‘Bleidbara and Boric, and Boric is a first-class tracker, could find no signs of any attack along the forest track where it was said to have happened. Nor could Boric find tracks of Riwanon and Budic’s horses fleeing back to Brilhag, hotly pursued in the manner that had been claimed. Bleidbara and his men – Eadulf was with them – came across the camp of the raiders and Ceingar, the maid.’