The Dove of Death

upstream from here is a rocky hill and no way to pass round it. Not for donkeys.’

‘And downstream? Where does that lead?’

‘I think it flows into some marshland. There is an area that the local people avoid for there are mudflats in which a man can be swallowed up before he has time to cry for help. There are one or two such areas here, even quicksand. However, if they know the way and can follow the stream, they could come to the shore of Morbihan.’

Fidelma was thoughtful. ‘In that case, these robbers might know the country well, or they do not know it at all.’

‘I don’t understand,’ Brother Metellus replied with a frown.

It was Eadulf who answered him.

‘If they took the donkeys and headed downstream to these marshes, they either did so knowingly or out of ignorance. If in ignorance, in so short a distance they would be in trouble and have returned. We would have encountered some signs. If they had knowledge, they must have used it as a means to prevent any pursuit of them, using the marsh for protection. They could have reached the sea by now.’

Fidelma smiled her approval of his reasoning.

‘Whatever the explanation,’ she said, ‘we will follow. But first, I want to examine the bodies of the merchants, which I have neglected to do.’

‘What can you learn from them?’ demanded Brother Metellus.

Fidelma did not bother to respond. Again it fell to Eadulf to explain.

‘Much may be learned from a body, my friend,’ he said confidently. He knew that Fidelma was skilled in such matters.

Back at the site of the attack, Fidelma examined each body, not to see the manner of how they met their deaths but to study the arrows.

‘The arrows are practically all the same,’ she said, after a short while. ‘Now here is an interesting thing — the man who made these arrows uses goose feathers and cuts the three flights with a sharp knife. That is the sign of a fletcher who is an adept at his art. They are of a high standard and, indeed, the same hand made all these flights.’

‘But does it help us?’ asked Eadulf.

‘Not of itself, but it may well be useful later.’

She had risen to her feet when Eadulf noticed that the man whom Brother Metellus had identified as the merchant Biscam was lying face down, one arm flung out before him, while the other arm was hidden underneath his body. He had apparently fallen on it. But Eadulf had noticed a wisp of white cloth poking out from underneath the body. He bent down and turned the corpse over on its back. It was only then that he saw that the arrows had not been the immediate cause of death. There was a cut mark in Biscam’s chest, above the heart. Eadulf had seen enough sword wounds to know that the man had been stabbed with a broad-bladed weapon.

But it was not this that caused him to exclaim and Fidelma to follow his gaze to the body.

The man was clutching a strip of white silk in his hand. There were some marks on it as well as bloodstains.

He knelt down again and prised it loose from the dead hand.

‘Could it be that he tore it from his assailant?’ whispered Eadulf.

‘Perhaps,’ replied Fidelma. ‘There is a curious patterning on this silk.’

Brother Metellus had moved forward to peer over her shoulder at it. He was frowning and there was something in his expression that caused Eadulf to ask: ‘Do you recognise this?’

He held up the torn strip of silk in his hands. It was a curious outline of a dove. Brother Metellus gasped.

‘What does that symbol mean?’ demanded Eadulf. ‘The same symbol was carved on the ship that attacked us.’

Brother Metellus ran his tongue around his dry lips but he said nothing.

‘You recognise this image,’ Fidelma said softly. ‘Just as you recognised it when Eadulf described what he had seen carved on the ship’s prow. The black pirate ship that attacked us.’

‘What does it mean?’ insisted Eadulf.

Brother Metellus blinked and said hoarsely, ‘It is the image of a dove in flight.’

‘We can see that,’ Fidelma replied. ‘And its meaning? To whom does it belong?’

The monk took a deep breath before turning to them both and saying, ‘That is the emblem of Lord Canao, the mac’htiern of Brilhag.’

Chapter Six

Eadulf was staring in fascination at the image of the bird on the torn silk.

‘That is an odd emblem for a chieftain to have,’ Fidelma said.

Brother Metellus spread his hands in a strangely helpless gesture.

‘It is the Lord Brilhag’s standard,’ he replied.

‘Do the people here believe it is an oracular bird, as we do?’ queried Fidelma. ‘They made stone figures of doves and, before the coming of the Faith, they used to pray to them in healing shrines for good health. Our Church Fathers often associated themselves with the dove. Crimthann mac Fedilmid took the name Colmcille — Dove of the Church. It is a symbol of peace and harmony, but surely an odd image for a chieftain to carry as an emblem?’

Eadulf folded the silk into a tiny square and placed it in his leather marsupium. ‘Does this mean that this Lord Canao is the leader of thieves and murderers?’

Brother Metellus was shocked.

‘The mac’htiern of Brilhag is very respected,’ he said immediately. ‘He is a friend and adviser to the King Alain Hir, and would not demean himself by attacking unarmed merchants. Anyway, he is supposed to be in Naoned.’

‘But I hear he has a son who is not as worthy as his father?’ Fidelma said thoughtfully.

‘I have met Macliau several times,’ Brother Metellus admitted. ‘He is a young, vain man who likes wine and women. I cannot see him leading such an attack as this.’

Fidelma was silent for a while and Eadulf knew not to interrupt her thoughts. Finally she drew herself up and glanced at them.

‘Nevertheless, the emblem of this lord of Brilhag features both in the attack on the Barnacle Goose and now in this ambush of these poor merchants. I think we must go to Lord Canao’s fortress to see if there is more that we can learn.’

‘That might be dangerous,’ Brother Metellus said immediately, ‘especially if there is some involvement. Though I cannot believe it.’

‘Eadulf and I must follow this path as it is the only lead we have to finding the killer of my cousin and my friend — not least the killer of all these poor people,’ Fidelma said, and she gestured at the bodies around them. ‘You can return to the abbey and report this before you return to your island.’

Brother Metellus shook his head.

‘I cannot abandon you in this strange country. You will need someone to interpret and one who knows this land. If you go to Lord Canao’s fortress, then I will come with you. Besides, I am as much intrigued by this mystery as you are.’

‘You do not have to come with us,’ Fidelma assured him. ‘As you say, it may be a dangerous path.’

‘I have made my decision,’ the other replied stubbornly. ‘If we set off now, it is not a great distance and we should be there well before the day begins to close in.’

‘Then I thank you, Brother Metellus. Your help is appreciated. Let us go back to the stream and see if we can pick up the tracks again.’

They returned to the spot where the stolen pack animals had apparently entered the stream, and turned to follow its course. Indeed, it was not long before the woodland on either side thinned and they were in flat, muddy