‘If there is a sea-raider in these waters then perhaps our
‘The lord of this territory?’ enquired Eadulf. ‘This Lord Canao who has been mentioned?’
‘Our chieftain, he occupies the
‘But we were told he was not here but at Naoned,’ Fidelma pointed out.
Aourken shrugged at the news. ‘So he has not returned? I did not know. A pity. He is a good man and is patron of the abbey. I taught his daughters Latin grammar when they were young.’ She sighed with nostalgic remembrance. ‘That I do miss, although they were a handful. The younger daughter — well, she was his foster- daughter — was very ambitious and, alas, very arrogant.’ The old woman smiled wistfully. ‘She once told me that when she grew up, she would rule not only this peninsula but all of Bro-Waroch and every kingdom of the Bretons…’
Eadulf had been listening patiently. ‘A shame if this Lord of Brilhag is in Naoned.’
‘If anyone had knowledge it would have been him,’ Aourken agreed. ‘But perhaps his son, Macliau, might help. However, he is not half the man his father is. He indulges himself too much with wine and…well, with women.’
‘We were not told he had a son. Where would we find him?’
‘You would go to see him?’ She was a little surprised.
‘It is the only way to acquire information,’ affirmed Fidelma.
‘He dwells at his father’s fortress of Brilhag, which is on the north coast of this peninsula. It, too, overlooks the Morbihan.’
‘Perhaps we could start now and-’
But Fidelma did not have time to end her sentence before the sound of hurrying footfalls came to their ears. A moment later Brother Metellus appeared. He was breathing rapidly from his exertion and there was a thin film of sweat on his forehead. Something had clearly put him in a state of distress.
‘What is it, Brother?’ asked Aourken, rising to greet him.
Brother Metellus halted before them and tried to recover himself.
‘I have news of Biscam and his brothers,’ he said between gasps.
‘He has arrived at the abbey?’ Eadulf asked.
‘He has not,’ Brother Metellus replied hollowly, turning with a tragic face towards him. ‘The news is terrible.’
‘Perhaps you will be good enough to tell us what this news is. Where is this man Biscam?’ Fidelma demanded.
‘Dead, Sister,’ replied Brother Metellus, turning back to her. ‘He and his brothers were attacked and their donkeys and goods were stolen. It happened only a mile from the abbey.’
Brother Eadulf grimaced and said: ‘That is indeed terrible.’
‘I think,’ intervened Fidelma gently, ‘that Brother Metellus would not be telling us this news unless it held a deeper meaning for us.’
The monk nodded. ‘One of Biscam’s drivers managed to survive. He is badly wounded but somehow he was able to crawl to the abbey. I think it better if you come with me and hear what he has to say.’
‘You make it sound intriguing, my friend, but as you’ll recall, Abbot Maelcar made it quite clear that I was not welcome in the abbey.’
‘Then let Brother Eadulf come with me, for this should be heard.’
Fidelma stood up abruptly. ‘As you are so insistent, let us all go to see this man. If Abbot Maelcar is concerned that my presence will destroy the spirituality of his community, then I will stand aside and Eadulf may listen to what there is to say. Where is the man now?’
‘There is a little house behind the chapel, set aside for the ailing sick of the community,’ Brother Metellus said, looking relieved. ‘Biscam’s man is there.’
‘You said that he is badly wounded,’ Eadulf said. ‘Has he been attended to?’
Brother Metellus nodded quickly. ‘We have a good apothecary in the abbey and his wounds have been dressed and tended. But the man has lost a lot of blood.’
They excused themselves from Aourken’s presence and followed Brother Metellus back to the abbey buildings.
‘What is this man’s name?’ asked Fidelma as they hurried along the path.
‘Berran. He worked for Biscam and his brothers.’
‘You have intrigued me as to what Berran might say that is of such importance,’ Fidelma said. ‘Is this one of the raids on local farms that Aourken told us about?’
‘I don’t know. I had not heard of them until yesterday, for I have been on my island for quite a while.’ Brother Metellus fell silent and so they followed him without any further questions back to the abbey. He led the way straight to a small building behind the chapel. It was a single room in which some wooden cots were placed, only one of which was occupied. A tall thin religious stood nearby administering some dark-coloured liquid. He looked up with a frown of disapproval as they entered.
‘The man needs rest,’ he admonished Brother Metellus in a whisper. ‘Sleep is the great healer in such cases.’ Then he seemed to notice Fidelma for the first time and his jaw slackened a little.
‘Sister Fidelma is here with my authority, Brother,’ Brother Metellus said quickly before he could raise another objection. Fidelma had looked quickly at the figure in the bed.
‘Is the prognosis good?’ she asked quietly.
‘It is not a life-threatening wound, if that is what you mean,’ the physician murmured. ‘He has lost blood and has pain from the wound, but he is young, and youth and time will lead to a good recovery.’
‘Has Abbot Maelcar been here to see him?’ asked Brother Metellus.
‘He has. The Abbot has just returned to his own chambers.’
‘Good.’ Brother Metellus ushered them to the bedside. They were surprised to see that the man who lay there was conscious; his eyes were focused on them, though it was plain to see that he was in some discomfort. ‘Hello, Berran,’ Brother Metellus spoke gently. ‘This will not take but a moment. I just want you to repeat to Sister Fidelma here exactly what you told us about the attack.’
Berran was, indeed, a young man, but his face was lined and weather-beaten and also furrowed with deep lines of pain. The eyes were dark and almost fathomless as he turned towards her.
‘We…’ he licked a tongue over his parched lips. ‘We were not far from the abbey. Biscam thought we should reach it by mid-morning. We had fifteen donkeys laden with goods and there were five of us — Biscam, his two brothers, my friend Brioc and myself. The journey from Naoned had been without incident…’
He blinked and paused.
‘It all happened so suddenly. I felt a pain and was knocked over by a blow on the shoulder. It was an arrow. I fell to the ground and was aware of my comrades falling around me. I heard their cries of surprise and pain, then I passed out. The attackers must have thought I was dead like the others but when I woke up, the donkeys and their packs were gone and only the dead lay on the forest pathway. I saw Biscam, his brothers…all dead. Only I survived.’
‘Tell the Sister what you saw before you passed out,’ Brother Metellus urged.
‘I saw the attackers emerging from the trees and bushes that lined the path. They had their bows ready in their hands and swords as well…’
‘And…?’ pressed Brother Metellus.
‘Their leader…’
‘Yes, their leader?’ cajoled the Roman. ‘Tell us of their leader.’
‘He was dressed all in white and wore a mask. He was a thin man with a shrill voice.’
Fidelma exhaled softly and glanced at Eadulf. She turned back to the wounded man.
‘Is there anything else you can tell us about this man?’ she whispered.
Berran was obviously trying to recall. ‘No,’ he gasped. ‘I was overcome with pain and passed out. In fact, I kept coming to and crawling along the path, knowing that I would eventually get to the abbey.’
Brother Metellus turned to Fidelma. ‘You see why you had to hear this? The leader was dressed in white as you described.’
Fidelma nodded thoughtfully.
