‘A pity that robbers are dead?’ he retorted in Latin. ‘You cry pity for those who would kill our King? Do you know in whose company you are, woman?’
‘I say it is a pity, because dead men cannot give us information,’ replied Fidelma coldly.
Clotaire grinned at the irritated man on horseback.
‘She has a good point, Ebroin. By the way, this is Fidelma, sister of King Colgú of Cashel,’ he explained. ‘She is the famous lawyer of Hibernia. Fidelma. this is Ebroin, my adviser and chancellor. Oh, and this is Brother Eadulf, of whom you may also have heard in connection with the deeds of Fidelma of Cashel.’
Ebroin looked slightly less irritated.
‘Your pardon, Lady Fidelma. However, I am at a loss to understand your meaning. Why would highway robbers have anything useful to tell us?’
‘She does not think that they were robbers at all but professional warriors,’ Clotaire said slyly. ‘Am I right?’
Ebroin regarded Fidelma with a frown.
‘I confess that they were well armed and defended themselves with the bearing of trained men, but there is nothing of significance to say they are not robbers. Many former warriors turn to robbery on the highways. My men are searching the bodies now to see if there is anything that might identify them.’
‘Is this something to do with the affair at the abbey?’ Clotaire asked.
‘Perhaps we could rest somewhere more comfortable and then discuss what we must do next, Imperator,’ Fidelma suggested, using the respectful form of address for the King.
‘There is a woodsman’s cabin a short way back along the track,’ pointed out Clotaire. ‘Let us go there.’
‘It will be as you say, Majesty,’ Ebroin replied. Turning in his saddle, he instructed some of the warriors to ride forward to secure the woodsman’s cabin and signalled the others to form a circle around them.
‘Come, ride with me, Fidelma,’ cried the young King. He signalled two of his men to dismount, hand their horses to Fidelma and himself, and take charge of the wagon, into which the body of Brother Budnouen was carefully laid. ‘Tell me, Fidelma of Cashel, are the stories that your countrymen tell about you true?’
The barrage of questions from the young man embarrassed Fidelma.
Riding behind them in the wagon, Eadulf felt a growing irritation. Almost from the first he had been ignored, but he remained silent. He accepted that his rank was of little consequence compared to Fidelma, as sister of a king, in the eyes of Clotaire. He noticed that Ebroin, the elderly adviser to the young King of Austrasia, rode behind them in silence but also with a suspicious countenance.
They soon reached the cabin, to be welcomed by a warm fire and subservient hospitality by the woodsman and his wife.
Before the fire, and with mulled ale to help the story along, Fidelma repeated the main details of what had happened in Autun. She left out her suspicions and merely put forward the basic facts.
‘Do you think there is a danger to our King?’ Ebroin leaned forward in his chair, fixing Fidelma with a sharp interrogative gaze. ‘I have never liked Bishop Leodegar. He was very close to Clotaire’s mother when he was at court, which is not to my liking.’
‘I cannot say for certain who is behind these matters,’ confessed Fidelma. ‘However, Leodegar seems to govern the abbey quite firmly and has fixed ideas. I must investigate further before I can point the finger of accusation or fully explain the deaths at Autun.’
Ebroin made a curious spitting gesture.
‘Pah! A few minutes with one of my men and a sharp knife and we would get the truth from any man. I have always been suspicious of Leodegar.’
Fidelma looked shocked at his suggestion.
‘I am uncertain of the ways of your country, Ebroin, but in my country we calmly investigate and when we find evidence,
Clotaire was looking worried. ‘There is a truth in what you say, Fidelma, but if there is danger in Autun…’
Ebroin too looked concerned. ‘Do you know if the Nuntius from Rome is still there?’ When Fidelma nodded, he shook his head. ‘Rome expects you to attend, Majesty. You are to endorse the decisions made at Autun and, in return, the Holy Father will recognise your title as Emperor of all the Franks.’
‘How will we know if there might be danger from Leodegar?’ asked the young King.
‘Might be?’ muttered Ebroin. ‘I remember when your father, Clovis, died and your mother, Balthild, found the regency thrust on her. Didn’t your mother seek advice from Leodegar because he had been raised at the royal court due to the high rank of his parents? He had a taste for power then. Perhaps he enjoyed it too much to part with it.’
‘But he was instrumental in educating me and my brothers,’ Clotaire pointed out.
‘He persuaded us to enter into a thankless war with the Lombards-and we saw the defeat of our armies by Grimuald of Benevento,’ argued Ebroin. ‘Shame on our arms! We are now hard pressed to defend our very borders from the vengeful Lombards.’
‘That was why my mother sent him away from the court.’
‘Aye, to be bishop at Autun,’ Ebroin grumbled. ‘And now what grief is he stirring up in Autun?’
Fidelma cleared her throat noisily to interrupt them, but before she could speak, one of the warriors came in, holding something in his hand.
‘This was the only thing of interest we found on one of the bodies of the robbers, Imperator.’ He held it out. It was an emblem of sorts-a bronze circle in whose centre was a jagged saltire cross.
‘I have seen that design before,’ ventured Fidelma, trying to remember where. ‘What is it?’
Ebroin glanced at it and shrugged.
‘Nothing of significance in this part of the world. It is the cross of Benignus, much favoured by the Burgunds. You would see it in many places.’
‘It is a Burgund symbol?’ pressed Fidelma.
‘Of course. It was used on the shields of their kings before they accepted the rule of the Franks.’
Fidelma gave a soft sigh and Clotaire met her gaze expectantly.
‘Does this mean something to you, Fidelma?’
‘It might mean a conspiracy against you, Imperator,’ she said. ‘But I cannot be definite.’
‘So what are you suggesting we do?’
‘I suggest that Eadulf and I return to the abbey. It will allow me to bring to a conclusion some lines of investigation that I need to follow.’
‘I am against it!’ snapped Ebroin. ‘It may give warning to whoever is behind-’
‘Behind what, exactly?’ Clotaire interrupted. ‘We do not know. And what is your suggestion, Ebroin?’
‘Ride down on Autun, seek out the conspirators harboured by Leodegar and burn them as rebels to teach the city a lesson.’
Fidelma forced herself to laugh. It was an unnatural laugh and sounded hollow, but it was the only way she could express her disapproval of Ebroin’s attitudes with sufficient force. She had the young King’s attention again.
‘What use would that be?’ she demanded. ‘To seize hapless people who may or may not be guilty of a crime. Do you want to leave a legacy among your people as a tyrant? That would be one of the easiest ways. But if you want to be hailed as a king who is concerned with justice, then allow us to find the guilty first before you punish a city indiscriminately.’
Ebroin snorted in disgust but Clotaire held up his hand to silence any further comment.
‘As I have said, I have spoken with teachers from your land and they have told me of your system of law and justice. It would be my wish to emulate it one day.’ He turned to Ebroin. ‘You have been a good mentor, my friend. I fear you do not yet deem me adult enough for the decisions that I must make as King. However, old friend, in this matter, I know what I should do. That is to listen to the wise advice of this princess from Hibernia.’
Ebroin started to say something and then shrugged as if resigned to his master’s wishes. The young man turned to Fidelma.
