The Dove of Death

‘Shall I tell you what you are thinking, Fidelma of Hibernia? You see the banner of my father that flies from the great mast? It bears an emblem of a dove, doesn’t it? I’ll lay a wager with you. When your own ship, the Barnacle Goose, was attacked, my wager is that the attacker bore the same emblem. You are now thinking that you have discovered the ship that attacked you. Am I not right in this assumption?’

Fidelma had been so careful to withhold this important information from Trifina or Macliau. Only Eadulf and Brother Metellus knew about the dove emblem. Now, here was Trifina, confronting her with the knowledge. She ran her tongue around her lips.

‘The thought did occur to me,’ she admitted slowly. It was useless to deny it. ‘Your wager was a safe one.’

An expression of satisfaction crossed Trifina’s face.

‘Take a good look at Bleidbara’s ship,’ she invited. Her voice was serious now. ‘Is it the same vessel as the one that attacked your ship?’

Fidelma turned back to see the vessel hoisting its sail and moving slowly southward along the coast. She had already realised that the colour was wrong. Although both ships were basically black in colour, the pirate ship certainly did not carry the strange orange bow that Bleidbara’s ship had. Nor were the lines of the ships similar.

‘Well?’ demanded Trifina.

Fidelma sighed. ‘The vessel is of different construction but it flies the same flag.’

‘I think you should return to the villa now, Fidelma of Hibernia,’ Trifina quietly ordered, indicating the path back. ‘You are entering into matters that are not your concern.’

The warrior accompanying Trifina stood, his hand still on the hilt of his sword as if waiting for an order from the daughter of the mac’htiern.

Fidelma began to walk slowly back up the incline. Trifina fell in step behind her.

Eadulf was about to be hanged. He was being led down a line of cowled Brothers and Sisters of the Faith, preceded by a single Brother of the community bearing an ornate metal cross. They were all chanting in an eerie fashion that sent shivers down his spine. His hands were tied behind him and the procession moved inexorably towards the platform where a single rope seemed to hang in space, formed into a noose.

The face of Abbess Fainder suddenly floated before him.

‘Abhor your sins, Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham. Life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot…that is the law.’

He wanted to cry out — ‘But you are dead! You do not exist!’

The noose was about his neck.

‘Let God’s will be done!’ shrieked the Abbess in his ear.

He started to scream. He was lying on damp earth. It was cold and wet against his cheek. It took him several moments to realise he was lying on the grass outside the villa on the island of Govihan. Without moving, or raising his head, he looked around. There was nothing in his area of vision and so he gently moved himself up into a sitting position and peered round again. He was alone, lying outside the still-open door that led from the villa’s herb garden.

He raised a hand to the back of his head. It came away sticky and he saw that it was covered in blood. The area was tender and throbbing.

Remembrance came back to him in a moment.

He peered cautiously down to the sea. There was no sign of the small sailing boat nor of Iarnbud.

His next thought was to warn Fidelma, and he was about to get to his feet when he heard a movement through the door of the herb garden.

Fidelma returned slowly to the villa with Trifina, the watchful warrior following them at a distance. Trifina left her at the gates of the villa with a curt farewell; her bodyguard remained at the gates.

Frustrated, Fidelma had no alternative but to enter the main courtyard. As she did so, she caught sight of a man moving quickly through the far door. In that split second, she recognised the figure of Iarnbud. Then the door slammed. She paused only a second before she almost ran to the door and tried the handle — but it had been bolted from the other side.

Iarnbud! He was here in Trifina’s villa, yet the daughter of the mac’htiern had denied any knowledge of Iuna or the pagan bretat.

She turned from the door and her frustration increased. But she had realised two things. One, that Trifina was a liar. And two, that there was a sinister mystery here in these beautiful islands of Morbihan.

Eadulf found himself once again looking into the eyes of Heraclius, who was staring at him in amazement.

He came forward immediately and held out a hand to raise Eadulf to his feet.

‘Why, what has happened? Did you fall and hit your head?’ he asked with concern.

Eadulf forced a grim smile, saying, ‘It seems that my destiny is either to drown or be bludgeoned to death.’

‘Bludgeoned?’ queried the young man in astonishment.

‘Someone hit me from behind.’

Heraclius looked around. ‘There is no one around here. You have not long left me. Are you sure you did not fall and hit your head?’

Eadulf groaned, reaching out and touching the back of his head again.

‘It does not take long to strike a blow,’ he said.

Heraclius was examining the wound.

‘However you came by this, I must dress it. There is a small gash where the skin has opened and is bleeding, but it will heal swiftly. However, you will have bruising, and coming on top of the immersion in the sea, you should rest to prevent yourself from further harm. It is not wise to take a blow to the head so soon after the previous one.’

‘I did not intentionally seek a further blow to the head,’ Eadulf said bitterly. ‘I don’t suppose you saw anyone follow me out through the herb garden?’

The young man shook his head with a smile. ‘I have only just come from there.’

‘Why?’ Eadulf asked.

‘Why?’ Heraclius repeated, not understanding.

‘What brought you here?’

‘I was looking for a herb, and when I entered the garden I saw this door open. I came out here and found you sitting on the ground. Why do you ask?’

Eadulf instinctively felt that the young apothecary was lying.

‘And you saw no one else? You did not see any sign of a small sailboat down there?’ He indicated the seashore below them.

‘A sailboat? I have seen nothing, I assure you.’

‘Very well, give me a hand back to your rooms and let us get this wound dressed. Then I must find Fidelma.’

‘Where have you been?’ was Fidelma’s first question when Eadulf returned to the guest chamber. Her second question, on seeing his bandaged forehead, was: ‘What has happened to you now?’

She had returned to the room and, having found it empty, was about to set out in search of him. Eadulf told her briefly of his adventure.

‘So you saw Iarnbud too,’ she breathed softly when he had finished.

He was surprised. ‘You saw him as well?’

‘Only for a second. He was in the villa and I just caught sight of him vanishing through a door. But when I tried to follow, the bolt had been secured on the other side.’

‘If Iarnbud is here, that means Iuna is here.’

‘That is logical. But Trifina does not want us to know that. Why?’

Eadulf grimaced. ‘I would wager it has something to do with that stone building outside the wall of the villa. There was a strange smell hanging over that place, a smell that I can’t quite identify.’

‘You suspect that this apothecary, Heraclius, was the one who knocked you out?’

‘I can’t see who else it could have been.’