The Dove of Death

darkness moments before she came down the corridor. That someone has to have access to this fortress and know their way about this building, even to the location of the room where the Abbot was sleeping.’

‘Supposing that it was the Abbot who was the intended victim…’ Budic still had a trace of a smile on his face.

Fidelma turned to him with a raised eyebrow.

‘Can you expound on that remark?’ she asked.

‘Perhaps this killer was not committing a premeditated murder. Perhaps they were merely a thief, a thief who wandered into a room by chance, woke the occupant by accident and struck out to silence him.’

‘It is an interesting theory,’ said Riwanon. ‘Perhaps we should make a search for missing items?’

‘I doubt whether anything is missing.’ Fidelma’s expression did not change. ‘And it would still mean that the killer had knowledge enough to wander this place at night, knowing their way around. There is one other thing that we are already forgetting.’

‘Which is?’ Riwanon leaned eagerly forwards.

‘The strange message that brought the Abbot here yesterday. It purported to be from your husband, Riwanon. Was that message designed to lure the Abbot here, to bring him to his death?’

‘Lure?’ Brother Metellus’ brows were drawn together. ‘You mean that the message was purposely sent to bring him here, for him to be killed? That sounds dramatic.’

‘It is something to be considered,’ Fidelma said calmly.

‘But who could have done such a thing?’

‘Isn’t that what we are discussing?’ Riwanon sighed impatiently. ‘All I can say is that the message was not sent by my husband.’

‘The point is,’ Eadulf intervened, ‘who would want to kill Abbot Maelcar?’

Brother Metellus could not restrain a chuckle, saying, ‘He was not the most likeable of men. There are plenty who would not shed a tear at his demise.’

‘According to what you have told us, Brother Metellus, that would include yourself?’ Fidelma pointed out dryly.

His shoulders tensed for a moment before he relaxed with a rueful laugh.

‘Just so, lady,’ he conceded. ‘As well as many members of the community at Gildas. And there are many more who are no longer of the community, those whom the abbot expelled when they did not agree with his new Rule, who would doubtless bear a grudge against him.’

Fidelma turned to Iuna. ‘One more question:…how well did you know Abbot Maelcar?’

Iuna started. ‘Know him?’

‘Abbot Maelcar did know you, didn’t he?’ she said, before the girl could deny it. ‘I saw from his expression that he recognised you last night.’

The girl regained her composure quickly, saying, ‘He has been to Brilhag several times to see Lord Canao. Of course, I know him.’

‘He seemed to be arguing with you in the kitchen last night,’ Fidelma said gently.

Iuna looked shocked for a second, and then sighed. ‘He was remonstrating with me for not making Confession under his new religious rule.’

Fidelma saw the closed look on the girl’s face and realised that pursuing things further at this stage would not help them make progress.

‘I think we can allow you to go and change out of that bloodstained gown,’ she said gently.

The girl rose, glanced at Riwanon, who nodded as if to confirm Fidelma’s suggestion, and hurried off.

Fidelma turned to Brother Metellus. ‘Do you know the scribe who accompanied the Abbot here?

‘Brother Ebolbain? Not well at all. Only by sight.’

‘Will you find him and bring him here? We should hear if he has anything to add to the reason why the Abbot came here.’

Brother Metellus left the great hall.

Fidelma went to the table where, at the beginning of the gathering, she had placed something wrapped in a cloth. Now she carefully unwrapped it and held it up, so that Riwanon could see it.

‘I wonder if you recognise this, lady?’ she asked.

Riwanon frowned at the object.

‘Why would I recognise it, apart from the fact that it’s a knife?’

‘Examine it,’ invited Fidelma.

‘It’s a hunting knife.’

‘Rather it is a dagger used in warfare,’ Fidelma corrected. ‘But what I wanted you to particularly notice, and express if it means anything to you, is the symbol engraved on the handpiece.’

Riwanon peered closer. ‘It is an image of a bird, a dove. Oh, that is the symbol of the house of Brilhag.’

‘And this was the knife that was embedded in the chest of the Abbot,’ Fidelma explained solemnly.

Riwanon seemed unperturbed.

‘Then it is a dagger that belongs to this household. It would probably mean that the killer grabbed the first item to hand to kill the Abbot. Ah, I see. That would mean that it was not a premeditated act.’ She smiled. ‘You see, I have observed our own advocates pleading in the courts and know some of the ways of their thinking.’

‘Or it could mean that the killer was part of this household,’ Fidelma corrected her. ‘Thus they would have access to the Abbot’s chamber. And who would leave a war dagger lying about? I noticed that Macliau, when he greeted us, was most particular about the placing of weapons in a room for safety. He told us that his people share an old custom with mine. No weapons were brought into the great hall but kept in that small room, over there.’ She indicated the chamber at the end of the great hall, which Macliau had showed them.

‘The custom is so strong that even your bodyguard, Budic, last night handed his weapons over. That means that the killer would have had to collect the dagger from that armoury, taking the key from its hook to unlock the door. I checked this morning. The door was still unlocked.’

‘In which case it was a premeditated act,’ Eadulf finished. ‘And the dove…’

Fidelma frowned warningly at him as she said, ‘Exactly. The dove is symbol of this household.’

The door opened and Brother Metellus returned. Trailing in his wake was a small, balding man, peering nervously about him in shortsighted fashion. His eyes were large and round, almost owl-like.

‘This is Brother Ebolbain,’ announced Brother Metellus, adding: ‘I have informed him what has happened.’

The little man nodded emphatically, moving his head up and down rapidly in a birdlike motion.

‘The Abbot slain! Terrible! Terrible!’ he muttered.

‘Come forward, Brother Ebolbain,’ instructed Fidelma, pointing to a spot before them. She re-wrapped the dagger and placed it back on the table. ‘Do you know who that lady is?’ She indicated Riwanon.

Brother Ebolbain continued the jerking of his head as he mumbled, ‘Riwanon. The wife of our King, Alain Hir.’

‘I am Fidelma of Hibernia and have been requested by your Queen to ask some questions about the death of Abbot Maelcar. Do you understand?’

Brother Ebolbain looked from Fidelma to Riwanon and back again.

‘I suppose so. I saw you outside the abbey infirmary when you were there a few days ago.’

‘So tell us, how did you and the Abbot come here?’

‘We came by foot, Sister,’ replied the monk ingenuously.

‘I meant, what caused you to come here,’ corrected Fidelma.

‘The Abbot told me to do so.’

Budic, still seated on the table, sniggered.

‘Did he explain why?’ asked Fidelma patiently.

‘Oh yes, he told me that the messenger had instructed him to meet the King, your husband,’ he turned to Riwanon, ‘as a matter of urgency.’

‘Did you see this messenger?’

‘Oh yes. He was in the Abbot’s study when the Abbot called me in.’

‘Describe him.’

This instruction caused the scribe’s eyebrows to raise. He hesitated a moment.