The Dove of Death

Fidelma glanced towards the building into which Brother Metellus had disappeared. Her impatience was obvious to Eadulf and he was about to urge calm when a ‘miaow’ at his feet caused him to look down. A large black cat had appeared, its nose in the air sniffing gently. It moved immediately towards Fidelma and rubbed itself against her legs. She stared down at it and then a frown formed on her features. She bent down and ran a hand across the sleek black fur at the back of its neck. The animal gave another ‘miaow’, then turned and stalked off without haste among the bushes of the herb garden.

Fidelma turned to Eadulf with a curious expression. ‘Did you see that?’

‘The abbey seems to have a pet,’ he replied with a smile.

‘You didn’t recognise it?’ she pressed.

‘Why should I?’ Eadulf did not understand.

Fidelma ran a tongue nervously over her lips and glanced quickly round, lowering her voice in an almost conspiratorial whisper.

‘Because that animal was Luchtigern. That was the ship’s cat, the cat from the Barnacle Goose.’

Chapter Four

Eadulf regarded her in astonishment for a moment, not sure whether she was joking or not.

‘You must be wrong,’ he said eventually. ‘One black cat looks exactly like another.’

Fidelma shook her head determinedly. ‘That is not so. Cats have individual looks and personalities just as we have. That was Luchtigern — I know it. But how came the cat here?’

‘Are you saying that the cat escaped overboard and swam here?’ Eadulf tried to joke.

‘I am not stupid, Eadulf,’ Fidelma said irritably. ‘I tell you that it was Luchtigern. On the back of his head is a lump of pitch that is entangled with his hair. I felt it just now. I saw it on the ship and Wenbrit told me just before we were attacked that he was going to cut it off.’

Eadulf was silent for a moment. He knew that Fidelma would not be so intense if she was anything but sure and the evidence of the pitch was damning.

‘But how…?’ he began.

‘Don’t ask me how it came here!’ she snapped. ‘Maybe the Barnacle Goose had to put into harbour here and the cat escaped.’

‘There is no harbour near here,’ protested Eadulf. ‘You saw that the beaches are long and sloping. A ship would have to stand off some way out to sea, and no cat could swim that distance to shore.’

‘Then we must examine the coast round here. If Luchtigern is here then so are those who have survived the attack on the Barnacle Goose. The animal could not have travelled far on its own.’

‘Don’t male cats wander?’ hazarded Eadulf. ‘The ship could be miles away.’

Fidelma’s expression indicated what she thought of his comment. She glanced around with a frown.

‘We’ll have to be careful about what we say until we know who we can trust.’

‘Surely we can trust Brother Metellus? After all, he saved us.’

‘It’s true that he saved us,’ she agreed. ‘But I am sure the dove emblem meant something to him when you mentioned it. Also, he did not seem keen about us going to see this local lord.’

There was no time to say any more because Brother Metellus had reappeared, in the company of an elderly man. The latter was stocky in appearance, with a fleshy moon face and red cheeks. His hair, while bearing the tonsure of Peter, was a silver-grey and with thick curls at its ends. The eyes were dark, and there was some unfathomable quality to them as if they were a mask rather than expressive of the personality of the man. He wore black robes and around his neck was a golden chain with a crucifix denoting that he held the rank of Abbot.

His lips parted in what was meant as a smile of welcome but his features held no warmth behind the greeting.

‘Pax vobiscum. Greetings, my children. You are welcome to our little community.’ He spoke in Latin.

‘Pax tecum,’ they replied almost in unison.

‘Brother Metellus has told me of your adventure but, Deo iuvante, you have survived.’

‘Indeed, with God’s help,’ muttered Eadulf.

‘Brother Metellus also tells me that you have been rendered without means of support. You may be in luck — we are expecting a merchant, called Biscam, to arrive here shortly. Biscam comes regularly to our community and he will be returning to Naoned within a few days. I am sure that he would offer you his protection and a place among his wagons as far as the port. Brother Metellus tells me that ships from many quarters of the world use the port, including those from your own land. I am sure you will be able to find a safe passage back.’

The man spoke firmly as if there would be no questioning of what he had decided.

‘You are most kind…’ began Fidelma.

The Abbot barely heard her before cutting in: ‘But until the merchant arrives…well, we must secure you some shelter. Beyond the abbey is a little village of fisherfolk.’ He paused and made a curious gesture with a motion of his hand. ‘You see, we are a community of monks, those who have taken vows of chastity in accordance with what we believe is the true path to God. There is no place, no facilities, for a woman here.’

‘I was told that a local chieftain has his fortress nearby and perhaps, out of respect for my brother, the King of Muman, he might give us hospitality and ensure our safe passage home,’ interposed Fidelma.

A frown of annoyance crossed Abbot Maelcar’s features. He clearly did not like to have his own plans questioned.

‘The Lord of Brilhag is not resident in his fortress. In fact, I believe he is presently in Naoned with the King. Best that you travel there as soon as Biscam, the merchant, departs.’

‘I have no wish to impose on your community,’ Fidelma said coldly.

‘Neither shall you,’ replied the Abbot with equanimity. ‘Brother Metellus will take you to the village and arrange your beds and also meals. You have the freedom of all places except the abbey buildings themselves.’ He paused and shrugged. ‘The reasons for that are obvious. The harmony and peace of our community cannot be disturbed. While Brother…er, Eadulf,’ he struggled with the unfamiliar name, ‘can join us if he wishes, either at meals or services, we cannot extend such hospitality to you, Sister. Our rules are strict.’

‘I will not bother you, Abbot,’ Eadulf intervened quickly, before Fidelma had a chance to respond. There was irritation on her face and he knew her response would be critical. ‘We will be content with whatever arrangements you suggest, and thank you for your generosity. Are we not like that traveller from Jerusalem to Jericho who was set upon by robbers and left destitute and for dead? And have you not come as the Samaritan did to take pity on us? For this much we applaud your beneficence, Father Abbot.’

Fidelma was puzzled for a moment because the speech was so unlike Eadulf. Then she realised that he was using gentle irony to deflect the Abbot’s thoughts. Abbot Maelcar apparently did not hear any mockery in what was said but merely nodded seriously.

‘Although I do not approve of the path you have taken, Brother Eadulf,’ he glanced from Eadulf to Fidelma, ‘we are Christians together and must fulfil the tenets of our Faith that are compassion and charity. It is God’s will that soon all the churches of these western lands will come into accord with Rome and every abbey and monastery will adopt the Rule of the Blessed Benedict. Only a few days ago, I received news of the ordinances of the Council at Autun, which has ordained that this Rule of Benedict be adopted by every religious community. Any other course leads to profligacy and depravity. Unless our churches here abandon those ways, there is no reward in heaven.’

Fidelma swallowed hard but Eadulf nodded quickly.

‘Each sheep comes to the shepherd in his own way,’ he smiled easily. ‘It may interest you to know that we were among the delegates to the Council of Autun.’ He ignored Fidelma’s frown of warning.

‘Delegates?’ The Abbot’s eyes shot up on his forehead in surprise. ‘It was a Council of bishops and abbots. Why would you be among the delegates?’

‘Sister Fidelma was asked to act as legal adviser to the Abbot of Imleach, the premier bishop of her