asleep. Another bed, presumably for the use of Lady Gunora, stood in the other corner but it showed no sign of having been disturbed.
‘How may I help you, lady?’ asked Fidelma, keeping her voice low.
Lady Gunora paused for a moment as if trying to think of the correct way of expressing her thoughts. ‘I just wanted to warn you, Fidelma. You are the daughter of a king and we of noble blood have a duty to one another.’
Fidelma stared at her in surprise. ‘To warn me?’ she repeated.
‘You do not belong here, lady. It is best that you leave this valley as soon as possible.’
‘I do not understand. As for belonging, my countrymen established this abbey. My good friend and mentor, Brother Ruadán, is the reason that I came here in the first place. He is old and, I am told, is not much longer for this world. I intend to leave in my own time.’
Lady Gunora clasped her hands in front of her and looked sad. ‘I meant no insult. But I fear the coming storm, lady, which might sweep all things from its path — this abbey, this valley … everything.’
‘I still don’t understand.’
‘These years have seen much bloodshed across these mountains and valleys. His father,’ she nodded to the sleeping Romuald, ‘is not a bad king, but he had to fight his way to power at the cost of much blood. Even at this moment he is in the south of this land keeping our enemies there at bay. Now we hear that the former joint king Perctarit has recrossed the great mountains from Frankia and is coming to seek vengeance.’
‘I have heard these stories from Magister Ado and others,’ Fidelma confirmed.
Lady Gunora gave a brief smile. ‘Magister Ado? Many good things are said of him. But do not trust anyone. Not the abbot, nor Ado, nor Ionas. There is evil here, lady. That is what I wanted to warn you of and to entreat you to leave at once.’
Fidelma was quiet for a moment or so. What the woman was saying was more or less what poor old Brother Ruadán had said. Now she was really intrigued.
‘Do you know Brother Ruadán?’ she asked suddenly.
Lady Gunora nodded quickly. ‘Most people from here to Placentia know of him, for in spite of his age, he has travelled many a road bringing the true Faith.’
‘So you are no follower of Arius?’
‘You know of this conflict?’ Once again she looked to the sleeping boy. ‘His father, Grimoald, believes in the teachings of Arius of Alexandria. But he married a woman who upholds the Creed of Nicaea and the authority of the Holy Father in Rome. Grimoald rules with a liberal hand. So far as his rule is concerned, it is left to individuals to follow the Faith in whatever way they wish. But it will be better if the boy does not fall into the hands of Perctarit.’
‘And you think that if the followers of Arius get hold of the boy, they will betray him to this Perctarit? That sounds illogical, if his father is of their faith.’
‘I know it, lady. Religion has nothing to do with it. Power is everything. Britmund and his lackey Godomar would do anything in the hope they can persuade Perctarit to grant favours. Grimoald has already made clear he will not support one side over another in this theological argument. Beware of Bishop Britmund, lady. He is an ambitious man.’
‘Yet he is a man of the Faith, sworn to follow the path of Christ, which is peace.’
Lady Gunora uttered an ugly laugh that surprised Fidelma.
‘Peace? I often wonder why we have cast out the old gods and goddesses. Did not the Christ say, according to the words of Matthew, “I am not come to send peace on earth; I come not to send peace but a sword … to set man at variance with his father and daughter against mother, and daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law. He that loves his father and mother more than me is not worthy of me, and he that loves his son and daughter more than me is not worthy of me.” Peace? Are those the words of a peace-maker? Are those the words that men such as Britmund roar to entice people to take arms against one another?’
Fidelma hesitated; she was astonished by the words and, not having heard them before, decided she must look up this text.
‘Do you not feel safe here?’ she asked.
‘I am afraid for the Prince. He is the responsibility that his mother gave to me before she left to join Grimoald in the south. I fear for his safety, just as I fear there is a storm of blood approaching. I just wanted to warn you, Fidelma of Hibernia, to leave this place as soon as you can.’
Fidelma found herself outside the door in a black mood. It seemed everyone was warning her. But she had a purpose to fulfil and, perhaps, that would provide her with the answer to it. She looked along the corridor. Sitting on a stool at the end of it, with the fluttering lamp at his feet, sat Brother Wulfila. His hands were folded across his stomach and he seemed to be nodding sleepily. Even if he were sound asleep, there was no way of getting past him without disturbance. She stood for a moment, her lips compressed in annoyance. Well, there was no question of pursuing her intention. She would wait until the morning and hope that Brother Wulfila would leave his sentinel’s post early.
CHAPTER SIX
Fidelma was up, washed and dressed before first light. She left her room silently, pausing to glance up and down the corridor. She hoped that Brother Wulfila had decided, with dawn approaching, that there was no need to keep guard in the corridor outside Lady Gunora’s chamber. There was no sign of anyone. She took her leather-soled sandals from her feet, so that their sound would not alert anyone, shivering for a moment as she felt the cold stone of the flags on her soles. She could hear the faint movements of the abbey stirring to life and moved cautiously forward, still holding her sandals in one hand.
She was passing the chamber where she had spoken with Lady Gunora the night before when she paused with a puzzled frown. The door of the chamber was slightly ajar. All was quiet. She pushed it open and glanced inside. The room was empty and there were signs of a hurried departure. A chair was overturned, and blankets and pillows were still strewn on the floor. But there was no sign of any personal possessions nor bags, which she had seen when Lady Gunora had invited her inside.
Fidelma examined the room closely. Lady Gunora andthe young prince had obviously vacated the chamber in great haste. Then, recalling that she had a more important mission than getting involved in this new mystery, Fidelma drew the door back to its original position and made her way cautiously to the end of the passage. There was no sign of Brother Wulfila. The passages were deserted. She encountered no one on the way to Brother Ruadán’s chamber.
Fidelma entered the room quietly. It was now bathed in a soft early-morning light. The frail form of Brother Ruadán lay still on the bed, his breath shallow and asthmatic.
‘Brother Ruadán,’ she whispered as loudly as she could.
The breath caught for a moment. At least it showed that Brother Ruadán was awake and had heard her. The old face on the pillow turned slowly towards her. She moved to the side of the bed.
‘It is I, Fidelma.’
‘You came back?’ The words emerged in a difficult, wheezy fashion. ‘I … I thought I had dreamed your being here yesterday.’
She sat down on the edge of the bed and took one of his cold, parchment-textured hands in her own.
‘I am here. You seemed agitated when I came before.’
‘Is there anyone with you? I cannot see clearly.’ The pale eyes darted nervously around the room.
‘We are entirely alone,’ she assured him. ‘What troubles you?’
‘What are you doing here — here in Bobium?’
‘I was travelling to Massilia but my ship was damaged in a storm. So I was stranded in Genua. I met Magister Ado and was told that you were here in this abbey and so I came to visit you. I am distressed to find you so unwell.’
There was a long, wheezy sigh from the old man.
‘I am distressed that you should find me at all. My time is nearly done. There is evil here and, I fear, much
